From the dying embers
To the blazing inferno
Fire's glow will be seen
From dawn to dusk

Wether made by natch
Or lighter
Maybe from lightning
Call the firefighter!

Oh the glorious red light
As he speeds down the street
Cars all pull over
Kids think it's neat

Upon arrival
He takes out the hose
And the poem continues
Not written in prose

A seemingly tough battle
Until the fire has lost
In only a few days
The scorched grass be covered in frost!