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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2078359
Fire, one of Mother Natures' most destructive children.
Lightning flashed and swiftly struck a pine tree to the ground.

Fire flew with sparks that grew, consuming the dry Autumn grass.

The thunder roared a frightening threat that made the forest tremble,

then faded with the howling wind, rushing down the canyon.

The blazing forest cracked and popped, while cinder showers were falling hot.

Where gusting winds spread the flames, was up the mountain, across the range.

It jumped the river. It hopped the pass. It blackened the vast of deadened grass.

The prairie fields that carpet these hills, giving the critters their daily meals; Like those mighty timbers that towered so grand, No longer covered this magnificent land.

Into the brush rushed the moving stream. A crimson red, the forest gleamed.

Ash and rain danced with soot, while twirling smoke curled afoot.

Soaring high, hear the gusts she speaks, hunting her prey, stalking the weak.

Flying low, feel the wind she whips, whispering caution on her lips.

Soon the rain over came the flame;
washing away whatever remained
of the smoldering earth
and her charred terrain.

How many years her beauty unchanged?

It might be destructive, its method cruel;
It is still her most effective tool.

Natures cruel method
such as fire, promotes growth
as it enriches the soil
it releases its seeds
It has perfected this method
and knows what it needs

These are just cycles
that must be repeated
It's beauty's own way
and remains undefeated.

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