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The Firestorm…

ann johnson-murphree


In the western skies;

the sun delays leaving,

still radiant giving off a

feeling of peace.

The smoke from the fire

beyond the hills cast a

blushing haze toward the


Shadows rise around the

barren knolls where no

birds sing, the air thick

black and menacing.

The sun gives false

serenity, as death befalls

the burning Forest.


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