Fire and smoke spur poet laureate’s creative juices

Dear editor,

I was compelled to write this in the middle of the night…

Standing timber – Standing tinder

It’s so hot, so hot and dry.

The forest trembles

as further down the island, ashes fly

The moon’s an orange

The whiff of smoke

The razor edge of fear

Is it just a matter of time

Till fire spreads up here?

If syllables were raindrops,

I’d spit them out till dawn,

Till streams and rivers swelled and rushed

From the mountains on and on

But I, like you, just wait and watch

While the danger grows each day

It’s tinder dry, timber dry

Rain come again we pray!

Kevin Flesher

Cumberland