Angry Mountains

Smoke like mist hanging low on the ground

Smoke like clouds in the sky

A blurry reflection, beyond recognition

The world is burning up.

The trees on the far shore are dancing

The trees on the near side are ghosts

The lake in the middle is so, so pale

Everything bundled in smoke.

Distant houses nearly invisible

The valley like a giant ash tray

Everything like a dream, leached of colour

Disappearing one at a time.

Shouting! Screaming! Rushing past!

Yet the water ripples so calmly

The ghosts stop their dance, the curtain lifts.

Yet all is still smoky and pale.

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