The early bird chirps at the rising sun.
The street kid holds close his precious tin of glue.
A student hurries to school eager to learn.
The poet smiles at the beautiful sky so blue.
The charcoal burner eagerly strikes his match,
For he too has a living to earn.
The tall trees whistle and dance to the tune of the wind.
Right and left, back and forth rhythmically they sway.
From a distance there is a dark smoke so unkind.
Fire is a bad master they say.
In the dark smoke everyone is blind.
The beginning of what was to be a perfect day,
Joyful children bound in play,
And the world relaxes in alluring tranquility.
The smoke ascends in menacing insanity.
The roaring fire devours all in her path.
Only ugly scars are left on the scorched earth.
The charcoal burner hides his face in shame.
Is it shame or guilt? He can’t tell.
He can’t face this calamity for which he’s to blame.
All he wanted was charcoal to sell,
But all he got was a fire he couldn’t tame.
Hurdling himself in a dark corner,
He remembers a teacher’s lesson.
An imperative lesson he failed to honor.
If only he dared to care,
The black smoke would not have filled the air.