Aftermath of a Bushfire
The wind is now a soughing sigh,
Smoke is slowly drifting.
Devastation meets the eye.
Home burned down,
Chimney standing.
Possums gone, fate unknown,
Snakes are dead, birds have flown.
Bush destroyed, and trees, devoid
of green leaves, bare.
While all around, the empty sound
of nothing living there.
Within the heat of raging flame
gumnut shells have broken.
The fire did its worst, yet best,
the nuts will grow and so attest
that nature's voice has spoken.
Beneath the layer of fertile ash
Those hardy seeds remain.
Until one day they surge and push
and green once more will clothe the bush,
as growth begins again.
Copyright © Margaret Foster | Year Posted 2010
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