Fire and Flood

This time of year the lake is an island of cool in a cauldron of heat. A few months ago, the surrounding grass was fed by flood and stood tall and green in a bog. Now it is bleached, bent over and crackles underfoot. By January, the landscape shrivels up and tightens into a parched, knotted ball tensing for the burn. Baked and blackened, its ancient soul readies to resurrect again, breaking out of its charcoal sarcophagus with a green shoot as if it was giving a raised finger to fire.