Fire

Fire
threatened our mountain
yesterday.
Sooty, wood-scented smoke
rose like an orange wave
over the ridge.
It curled its lip
at our fear
while flames rushed up shores
of brittle dry fields.
Some stood their ground,
holding a garden hose:
Ready.  Aim.
Fire!

Prompt: We Write Poems challenged us to write a poem that begins and ends with the same word, but the word shifts meaning within the poem.

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11 thoughts on “Fire

  1. Annette, I lived in Colorado, Nevada, and Arizona before moving back to my home state of Arkansas. Having experienced the sight of fire devouring the penon, palo verde. and other southwestern life I feel for your experience and sadden for the loss. Thanks for the memory.

  2. This is really terrific, Annette. It’s very moving and very frightening and all too real and beautiful at the same time which just hightens its’ drama and great poetic feel.

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