A distant fire sends smoke signals
billowing higher on high.
A haze of soot from burning grass
soon sensed by those nearby.
Flame-tongues slurp-up oxygen,
cackling, crackling in the dry.
Up-wind is where it’s best to flee,
where birds and insects fly.

Smoke Signals by Celia Berrell

Poem inspired by April picture prompt titled MY PA, THE BUSHFIRE AND ME by Tim Ide