'Twas a sunny summer morning, As The Bushman rocked in his chair, Talking to his mighty chestnut horse, When a spark started a flare. It slowly crept from leaf to leaf, Over a hill not too far away, Gradually gaining momentum, Burning whatever was in its way. Soon ’twas a roaring blaze, Engulfing flora high and low, Sending animals scattering fast, Whilst creating a far seen glow. When the Bushman first did catch sight, Of that great fires billowing smoke, He quickly leapt up from his seat, Making contact with the village folk. Meanwhile that great fire spread, Vastly over the thick bushland, Killing all that couldn't get away, On the very spot that they did stand. Roos bounded and lizards scurried, As fast as they possibly could, Cockatoos shrieking as they flew, Evacuating homes of twiggy wood. The great fire was growing rapidly, As it started burning on up the hill, Towards The Bushman's homestead, Creeping in every direction at will.
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The Poetic Life 2.0 