Travellers here sense red beyond their eyes,
The flicker, pennant-like, where leaves should be,
The darkened bark of trees that would be black.
Still, thin, and tall, without a canopy;
Rather, each peaked by spears that seek the sun.
In this surreal landscape is no shade,
Yet lush, dark leaves like ivy sweep the ground,
And glimmer, flat, like scales where they are laid.
Plantations seeming, motionless, to burn,
In heat-haze shimmering thick in restless flare;
They would transcend themselves, and through the pyre
Become one with the blaze and searing air.
A wood of trees that strain towards the fire,
And sell themselves as slaves to flame's desire.
A/N: This actually started out as a fanfic idea, then a name (and symbol) for a document where I keep ideas that are waiting-to-be-written, then I started a free-verse poem, and finally I decided to be brave and try a sonnet. It's not a metaphor for anything. It mostly scans, go me. I'd love criticism as well as any kind comment you feel you can spare. :) The last two lines are up for revision.