The prompt for Day 21 is to write a danger poem. We are entering the season for wild fires in the northern part of the province where I work. I can think of few situations as dangerous as that.
Stag and Beast
An antlered head lifts.
Heat comes on dark wind
up the valley, relentless
pursuit of elevation.
Climbing hills more quickly
than frantic hares, wild-
eyed, running blind ‘til
overcome—suffocated—
their muscles seize, tremor,
one futile last effort pitches
small bodies forward,
then—terrible work—done.
Listen: crackling dry twigs
become snap of bleached
bone on forest floor. Hell
rises to claim this land for
its own victory before spring
rains quench parched soil.
A stag faces westward,
feign stamps its hooves
before retreating eastward
where a river runs its course.
Eventually, the fire will
run its course. Life moves on,
waits, on cool rains to soothe
the raging beast—fitful slumber—
until next drought, next spark,
and the world leaps ablaze.
This is great. I might do my own danger poem
ReplyDelete