Fireweed

For miles in every direction, there is nothing but death.  Tall sentinels become charred, decrepit reminders of the devastation. Piles of ebony shin tangle across the expanse of bleak nothingness. The seasons change. Slight bits of green push through the blackened earth. Long wispy leaves on fibrous stocks. Tight pink buds open with a flourish. A brilliant contrast to the carnage, life after death. And when it is their turn to become the colours of their end, the Fireweed fluffs up against the odds. Sending offspring in search of a new home to brighten the landscape after a wildfire.

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Prompt - February 8, 2018 - Write a story that fireweed.

​Ann Edall-Robson
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life
"Capturing moments others may never get to experience.”