Sing song birds cry,
the fire burnt it all down.
Not one inch of branch for rest
not one cool spot of ground.
The flames have yet to subside,
time has yet to tell if they will,
I’d like to think the spread is slowing
as I peel my calloused feet.
I didn’t realize at first
why it hurt to cool off,
the fire creeps insides us each,
part of the fire
was I.
