Burn out

What is it like

To stand at the edge

Of a burned out land.

A life torched and

Smouldered and ashen?

How does it feel to see

The stable being long tonight

For turn to cinder

Its dark richness

Fuel for flames.

It feels like this, a

Cleaned purposeful

Ground for shoots for

Regrowth, possibility

Whispered on the breeze

In treetops.

It feels warm with the

Chill of winter sun

Approaching, enriching

Rain, long cool night

Promised wonder.

It feels new

Full fresh lived

On the

Other side of

Burn out, it feels

Green shoots pressing

Black trunks

Skyward leaning.