Flames

Flames

Smokey the Bear heads
Into the autum woods
with a red can of gasoline
and a match of wooden matches

His ranger's is cooked
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 dispersing
warnings to the careless,
the half-wit camper,
the dumbell hiker.

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