Untamed flame.

The flames lick higher from within,
born of searing heat and kin.
If I could just reach out and touch
one licking flame, the ash and dust.

I watch the embers burning softly,
feel the warmth caressing loft'ly..
The thick, black smoke rise up and plume,
the heavy ash and choking fume.

Yet as the untamed flames would dance,
the merry sounds would lull and trance.
And none would remember the destructive force,
- that this little flame shows no remorse.

My thoughts transgress to another place,
where fear was etched into every face,
of the CFA soldiers - weary and brave,
and the battle they fought – the summer-sent grave.

The scorching heat of those summer days,
that parched the land and shimmered haze.
The fiercest orange that ripped the sky,
the sound of ELVIS chopper by.

The smouldering ruins left in the wake
of blackened bush and burning lake
of fire, that swept across the land,
the death and mayhem hand-in-hand.

The desperate cries of creatures dying,
to find their ashen bodies lying,
a wombat curled up in its den;
how many creatures perished then?

The fire has died, the smoke is gone,
I walk across the land forlorn…
and feel the sadness in my heart
of Nature's beauty torn apart.

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A/N: This poem is reminiscent of the 2003 and 2006 North-east Victoria bushfires and is dedicated to the wonderful CFA volunteers; who put their lives on the line and who could never recieve enough thanks.