It was almost like snow
Elsie counted the number of flakes
Before they came to a rest on the soft summer grass
She lost count at 54

Her mother lay draped across the lawn
like she hadn't slept in days and days
But how could one possibly sleep when
the night sky was alive with so many colors?

Elsie loved how the red danced with the blue, but the sirens hurt her ears
Where was her father?
And her baby brother?
They were missing the whole thing:
The strong wash of the heat
As the fire greedily jumped from bough to bough.