Save The Wheat Poem by Colleen O'Grady

Winds blew a norther, the day was a scorcher.
My job was to skyline during hot weather fine.
Windows I prowled for smoke searching,
while the wind howled and trees were lurching.
Then with fear I spied, the swirling brown
and fire I yelled to husband renown.
With a thump of feet he flew out the door
And yelling in alarm, ‘Phone some help more! ’
The boss was rung, the fire truck started,
this kind of work not for faint-hearted.
Food for the fighters was my chore
while boss’ wife did the drinks more.
Skylining and watching the swirling smoke.
its nearness frightening, my breath did choke!
A knock on the door blackened farmer there,
‘Near the wheat’ he cried snatching the fare.
Prayers did go skyward thick with dark smoke,
fire trucks everywhere for fire beyond a joke.
Unseen by the fighters weary and worn
who couldn’t tell that the sky was torn.
A sudden flash of lightning and crash of thunder
And rain teemed down tearing the fire asunder.
It had just neared the wheat which the rain did miss,
but it poured on the fire with a veritable hiss.
Thankful were the hearts as weary men rested,
this was a fire that God had bested.