I think of you and a crow
charges out of a spruce tree
screeching black exclamations
into a suddenly windy evening.Smoke from fires in high
forests is settling into
this valley. The smell of it
insinuates into all ourcorners. Everything has been
hazy all day. As the sun
falls, the dimming sky turns
red and grey over the burningmountains. Down here
the wind is chilly. Birches
wave their frilly arms with
dry, flammable noises.
a poet’s notebook
Fire Season
2 responses to “Fire Season”
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I like the simplicity of this poem. I am not necessarily a fan of “fire season,” but this poem clearly depicts not only the literal happenings of a forest fire, but the feelings of fear that fire brings. I like the crow at the beginning “screeching black exclamations,” and how the birches “wave their frilly arms with dry, flammable noises.” One thing I found interesting about this poem is the opening line that says, “I think of you and a crow charges out of a spruce tree…” The speaker of the poem thinks of someone, and then the forest fire comes. The smoke consumes everything, and the smell “insinuates all our corners.” This fire is unescapable and is heading down the mountain. I love the intensity of your poem, and the imagery of the forest fire. I may be reading to much into your poem, but I really enjoyed reading it. Thanks for the great poem!
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Thanks for your thoughtful reading and comment. You are a reader any poet would welcome.
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