Flames

Smokey the Bear heads
into the autumn woods
with a red can of gasoline
and a box of wooden matches.

His ranger’s hat is cocked
at a disturbing angle.

His brown fur gleams
under the high sun
as his paws, the size
of catcher’s mitts,
crackle into the distance.

He is sick of dispensing
warnings to the careless,
the half-wit camper,
the dumbbell hiker.

He is going to show them
how a professional does it.

Billy Collins

To hear Flames read by Billy Collins – click here

I first heard this poem from Michelle and I laughed out loud in yoga class. Every time I hear it I find myself chuckling and nodding in agreement.

What do you think?

Do you have a favorite poem?