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Bushfires
A billowing mass of thick, black smoke,
Arising from the bush,
Fire-fighters try to stop it,
But the fire continues to push.
As the flames lick at the trunks,
And leap from tree to tree,
They look to be dancing,
Tossing their heads in glee.
The heat and searing winds are intense,
Blowing amongst the flame,
And the night has an earthly glow,
To which the fire’s colour is the same.
But it seems to be the tragic bushfires,
That everyone remembers,
And those who are lost in the fire,
Float away with the embers.

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