Burning Trees

We stand
In cool, blue winter air
Field space, acre clear.
But the trees!
The sun has set them on fire
Burnt bronze and amber,
Hot orange, radiant,
Shimmering they blaze
and yet remain entire.
Is this how Moses saw the bush,
When barefoot he bowed
before the One
Who would set him alight.

Poem by me Susie Stead 2015
Photos as background and header by Hugh Turner

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