Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #128
The Grass Cooked by Belinda Roddie The grass cooked underneath her flaming boots, the harsh ribbons of smoke enveloping the tails of her coat as she singed the roots of trees and left oak leaves hot and crackling. She was alight, in holy blaze, and did not feel a single twinge of pain throughout her body as she trekked, while ashes slid across her shoulders, embracing the drought that had sucked the earth dry. The harbinger of disaster would scorch the forest green, and while the fire would rage, this old bringer of catastrophe would never be seen by a human face. Instead, only charred footprints would remain, homes and landscape marred.