the leaves of the forest are erupting into flames,
flaring orange and honeysuckle red,
swaying, stretching their fingers, dooming their neighbors to burn.
embers catapult skyward and tumble to the ground,
the fire devours itself, withering to reveal hearty skeletons beneath.
the sun is perched atop a golden throne
ever slip-sliding down the earth's dome
to embrace the horizon.
his smoldering gaze fans the kaleidoscopic furnace,
igniting ****** pockets of wilderness,
hovering for only a hushed breath
before bending to kiss another expanse with incandescent pigment.
the wind fondles scorched leaves as they sigh
and curl into their chests.
after sailing the departed to their ashen graveyard the breeze disappears, whistling through a maze of branches.
it carries the scent of the inferno on it's charred palms to the city beyond,
running residue swiftly under the noses of sidewalk dwellers
who absentmindedly look up from their shoes
to see if signs of smoke hover in the darkening sky.