Black Saturday

Yellowstone National Park 08/20/1988

I've never traversed great Yellowstone Park
Except in the story you told
Of the wildfire that burst across
the land during one of your hikes.

Your camera captured this hell upon earth
The envy of all journalists
So you believed until you discovered
That somehow the film was destroyed.

It matters not; though the wolves still recall
The night that their home was destroyed
When meadows were scarred; and buffalos fled
When the fires refused to die.

Long did the cruel decimation linger
'Til at last came the rains of fall
And the cool moist air that hinted of snow
Defeating the devilish beast.

I imagine a snow-covered valley
And a frozen solid clear lake
Peaks painted white, pines standing firm
I can taste the flakes on my tongue.

04/10/2009