Fire

[lostfiles]

FIRE | The gorse crackled, one moment it was dry the next saturated in heat burning blue the water of the air. A nesting adder, its scales rubbed raw in its panic stricken flee, is not fast enough. A flightless pheasant met the same fate, its dawdling mate caught in the fire too. The camera pans to an half-smoked butt, more orange than white, more deadly than drought, the circling manic crows that fly above wonder: why? Why is my nest scorched falling to the ground, why are the century old trees crumbling, why does the adder not make greater its haste?