Wildfires,
wildflowers -
pretty petals,
singed in hours.

Mrs. Rain,
quite contempt,
depriving pain
the rain exempt.

Lady Summer,
draped in dew,
eyes of light
a time anew.

Laird of wind
you may go
and blow as far
as I can throw
and while you whip
and hum and lash
would you mind a little bash
of the flames, though they are nice -
I think one wildfire will suffice.