the science of the fire
the science of the fire intrigues me,
when I can get past the wrenching in my emotions—
the sorrow at buildings lost and lives uprooted,
the black scarring across the land and up the trees,
as if trying to scale them when it could find purchase,
the trees downed, the logs burnt away,
and only shadowed by what’s left,
the places where green has been chased away
and all is black and forlorn,
I am heartened where the green holds,
often right next to leaves so brown and brittle
they easily crumble in my fingers,
I work to imagine maws of flame
swallowing and belching forth
all that energy saved by leaves for growth
and not to for wanton, wasteful,
dissipation in death, in destruction,
I wonder at high pine
browned to the top by conflagration at their feet,
I marvel at trees who endured
and seemingly considered the fire
an annoyance and not devastating,
I hope for spring flowers to return,
along with all the plants who slept through the great fire,
I hope for them to shake themselves awake in a few months
and reassert green and joy upon these woods.
by Henry H. Walker
December 26, ‘16
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