THE FIRE SEASON
The smokeís so thick, I cannot breath,
Summer couldnít be much drier,
It is the season - please believe,
Californiaís on fire!
The desert winds come in so strong,
Through canyons to the sea.
It doesnít take so very long,
That thereís nothing left to see.
The flames grow fast and reach much higher,
There goes another home.
It burns just like a funeral pyre,
And on the fire does roam.
A church is next to go I fear,
Its structure canít be spared.
The fireís so hot my skin does sear,
Iím feeling very scared.
The water dropping planes try hard,
But the wind blows it away.
And everything just looks so charred,
With all the structures, grey.
The men in yellow fight the flames,
But get beaten back again.
The fire another structure claims,
Please God! Let there be rain!
And yet, the fire-line marches on,
There is no end in sight.
Another fiery spot is spawn,
But still those firemen fight.
The flames reach almost to the coast.
Thereís plenty water there.
But structures still go up like toast,
We offer up a prayer.
Now several days have gone and passed,
And things have quietened down.
The wind has lessened from a blast,
As green turns black and brown.
The firemen take a long earned rest,
And view what natureís done.
Theyíve worked so hard and done their best,
But donít believe theyíve won.
And every year itís just the same,
The fire wins every time.
There isnít anyone to blame,
Itís natureís wilful crime.
Over a thousand houses were destroyed in San diego alone.