The Frontline Fight

One more day on the hill of fit fighting men
Battle ready comrades work beside me again
Dressed fully in orange, or yellow or brown
Ax in one hand, or shovel in the ground
The sunrise this morning, a gold red display
Sending me back to sunset of some long ago bay
Where the tang of orange smoke won’t stick in my nose
Instead I stand here, in my boots at my post
Wee morning risers, updates send us ahead
Angry clouds billow and churn overhead
Our vehicle parade winds the curves and the cliffs
Dozers and troops through the dark morning drift
Back to the front lines to stand hard won ground
Hoping to find homes left to be found
Today predicts wind, and the battle lines rage
Throats burning with ash that a drink can’t assuage
We spray towards the sky, tree top canopy flare
Then duck from the pumpkin pie spray through the air
Off in the distance chimney stack plumes of gray
Mark the start of new heat in our battle today
These days turn to weeks, then to months in the toil
Sleep hard nights in my bag when I’m not saving soil
I stand with my life at the front for a battle well won
To know that the forest will be here when we’re done
And I fight for the ones who are waiting on home
For me to come back, and to come back to their own

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