Heat

The the background buzz

Of the crickets' thrum and the

Bird in the tree does click

And the tree they rustle dry in the beeze

And the leaves on the ground languid flick.

Though the summer heat holds the air ashimmer

With slow walkers slowly melting by

And the silence is grand as a newborn sky

That does promise a world that might die

And yet all of this and some more.

For the lazzy terror does not early build

With the flickering tongues of the flames

That curl their way round the blackened home

And roar their flowing from tree to tree

To rebirth this from trash and debris.

And amongst the blackened state, these

Jagged trunks and piles of tin jumbled high

Is hope now reborn, a leadership anew,

A rising from the bone white ashes for anon

And a New Dawn, carried in with the snake