The sun is overtaken
by the hill before it
Golden grass glistens
A glorification

The grass is dry
it has nothing left in it
It is susceptible
to a devouring fire

A cigarette is plunked
a spark is struck
a flame is spawned
the flame spreads

A breeze challenges the fire
like a child to his birthday cake
But more sparks fly
like new stars in the night

The field is left scorched
blackened and flat
like a sky without stars
no more light

The land is harsh
it seems nothing can grown
but give it some time
and it will flourish