I thought it was mist,
rising from the river,
creeping up the hill and rearing
in dragon coils against the dull sky.
I thought it was the setting moon,
glaring bloody red
through the leafless trees.
I thought it was the crackle of dead leaves,
beneath the hooves of startled deer,
but now I smell the fear,
taste the smoke and fire,
hear the laughter of the flames—
the world is burning.