Where Do You Get Your Ideas?

Someone thought to burn some brush
Down by the dwindling river.
Before it was all over,

Twenty hectares had gone up,
The road choked closed to traffic,
The town had been without power

The whole blazing afternoon,
Air-conditioners silent,
The restaurants all shuttered.

All sorts of fire-fighting trucks,
Hot shots, and slurry bombers
Had been deployed for control,

Fire-retardant expended,
And everything reeked of smoke.