This barren land; beneath my feet, Was once: field of wheat.
Scorched by fire; laid to rest, Done by Mother Nature; she knows best.
Over yonder; timbers too, Ablaze in color; she starts anew.
Though we feel; a deepened loss, Pay heed; for she is boss.
She will dictate; the cycle of life, Over her lands; through her strife.
For it is life; That she truly yurns. From blackened soils; to lush green hills,
Mother Nature continues; to bring us thrills.
It is not for us to question; Only for us to follow through.
For she returns; what she must take, As she knows; what’s at stake.
So question not; as she burns, Throughout time we have learned,
Through this pain; and blackened sky, We need not ask; for we know why.
For new generations; they will see, This beautiful land; she has given to thee.