The sky is black; all blue is gone,
And it's just the noon time hour,
Dear God, please stop that wind,
And send us heaven's showers.
Firefighters are alerted,
From all around they come,
With shovels, ropes, and cables
To fight this son-of-a-gun.
Up the hillsides come the crews,
Planes with water overhead,
'Hang on guys, we'll get this sucker,
We don't want nobody dead!'
The fighters pull twelve hour shifts,
Some pull even longer,
It seems with every flame that's quenched,
Another just grows stronger.
Bodies taxed beyond endurance,
Faces blackened - covered with grime
Onward, upward fight those Angels,
Holding back the fire line.
How many hours, days, or weeks,
Before the winds subside?
How much havoc will be wrought?
How many men can stay alive?
The battle wages on and on,
They gain and lose and lose and gain,
Until, as if by miracle,
It seems the fire is contained.
One thanks God upon one's knees,
That those wild winds are stilled,
But how does one thank Live Angels
How does one thank those heroes,
Not even known by name,
Who gave themselves so selflessly
To save all from the flames.
Their real reward, I do suspect,
Will not come on this earth,
But one day they'll have crowns of gold,
God aware of each man's worth.
The dawn breaks; the sky is blue,
Man and creature come back home,
A gentle breeze now spreads new seeds,
And a white dove chaperones.
© Virginia (Ginny) Ellis