The hills were on fire then
and they are burning again
all bluster and smoke
updrafting breeze which crumples
giants to knees, tumbles
mountains to foothills

And maybe it was all just timing -
a tidal wind broken on rocky cliffside
at just the right moment to carry a spark
from safety to circumstance,
chance blaze of one little cinder
fated to bring all this old growth to ash

But maybe it's better to ask
what might come of all this?
What fervent splendor might birth itself
from all these broken bows, resprout
from this newly fertilized path
on the route towards civilization?