Ashes dance in the midnight sky,
Whose inky waves ripple
With the wailing wind. Fire roars
As it cascades down the hills, and the forest
Whirs with commotion. Birds and beasts
Of every fur and feather flee
For the babble of the river. But the blaze
Encircles and traps.
Its fingers splayed, orange and red,
Pull leaf, lumber, and those still living
Tighter tighter tighter
Into its hot, hungry embrace;
And then, in a whoosh,
Burn all to ruin.
He Who Wanders 