The whispers of secrets

Tucked away they lie

Seemingly quiet as crickets

Yet as boisterous as the sky

Bending down to touch the earth

Out of the withered hands of an ungodly nook

The shrill cries of a newborn birth

Or the noiseless pages of an unopened book

The snapping and cracking of a young sapling tree

To the crashing of an elder oaks

Spirit soaring free

Flames roaring high

California's suffering written in the sky 

Drying air keeps firemen at work

As "helpful" others stay in corners they lurk

Beauty deep in the forest unknown

Slowly gets stripped down to the bone