The will-it won’t-it by January
sunrise too hot, catch too easily
Ground litter rushes this way and that
air lifts taking branches dust paper
Language heightens the preliminaries
tinder dry will be flying ember
Ozone hole morphs into heat dome
denial feeds what cannot be denied
Watchers try to wait it out easy
measure the day with their fire plan
Sublunar we mark the boundaries
clear the property of native refuse
Property, the invisible lines
around our landed wishes
It is burnt gumleaves come first
flat brown clouds above the hills
Flying flowing the immaterial flames
will turn dark every seed-grown material
Seed cases decades buried
old grenades ready to explode
But will it come and where
unturned topsoil takes the heat
Fuel load waits, unmoving grasses
could spark here, or somewhere
Will touch off across the fences,
from gullies will trickle small burns
Radio starts up non-stop service
containment lines and no go roads
But will it? Birds soft sound the air
keep close to water on what-if days
Monsoon an abstract
lightning or arsonists about the edges
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