Nanowrimo Poem 6 The Fire is Coming

This was written when Covid 19 was just on our horizon and many people were denying it would get bad.

I know the Fire is Coming

The fire will not come here says the wise old oak. 

She is ancient, lightning-struck and ivy-strangled, yet steadfast and strong.

We are safe here she says.

But how do you know? says the fresh green sapling.

I just know. 

I have been here for 500 years, and fire has never come to this wood.

We have moisture and sunlight, bluebells in spring, 

Nothing can harm us but time, and that is not to be feared. 

It is the natural order. 

One day I will crumble and beetles will live in my bark

And you, little sapling, will take over.

The young oak trembled. 

She wondered whether this ancient tree really knew everything.

Maybe I will be alright. I'm young.

Maybe the moisture in my trunk will protect me.

The old oak is brittle, stuck in her ways and dry. 

But it’s too soon for her to die,

And I'm too young to take over.

There are beech trees, alders and silver birch,

All lovely in their own way, but none as wise as the oak. 

I know the fire is coming.

I love the sun on my leaves in the spring,

I love letting go in autumn, just like the big trees do.

I want to grow tall and be wise.

I want to live.

But I know the fire is coming.