Pines Burning

Sweltering pines blister

Dead heaps lie with pungent aroma drifting towards oblivion

The sky mother taking in the fragrance

And I, as I pass by

Scale the scene with emotions

The pines burn and offer their last gift

Bouquets of scent offered as a last lingering farewell

Before ashes are all that is left.

Recently the landscape contained the healthy vigour of

Towering pines

Gently bending and bowing slightly in the breeze

Tops held high with pride.

But now they are diminished to heaps of

Unsightly rubble

Rapidly dwindling to charred and sad remains.

 In a land where sometimes it is still difficult to be heard

I can identify with their lament

Beauty lost to a formidable force

Fire sucking out their soul.

Like women lost in a world of

Unrecognition. 

cailin raine