My Poetry

 

26

Jul

2018

Forest fire

Author: Jim Taylor

Water bombers roar low above the treetops.

Smoke billows black against the sky.

Flames flicker up trees.

Sirens wail.

Pack up --

Right now.

Fifteen minutes.

Don’t talk,

just do it.

Find suitcases.

How many days’ underwear will I need?

 

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