With the sound of a whisper destruction begins
Swept ever forward on punishing winds
Growing in anger, growing in strength
Leaping and dodging and bearing it's fangs
Blackening, choking, it pushes away
All but the fiercest who stand in it's way
The streets are deserted, the homes are alone
Still, ever closer, the fire moves on
The children are somber, no smiles to be seen
Their parents are praying for hope and for rain
The heroes keep fighting for any slight chance
Against rage of a monster's hurried advance
Daylight to midnight the battle persists
Neither side knowing what one may have missed
Until after hours of turmoil and loss
The smoke and the flames of the Rodeo lost
Though costly the battle the good won the fight
The heroes, exhausted, could smile and sigh
Then children and parents returned to the streets
And comforted others who fell to their knees
Their homes and memories shattered, gone
But still their spirit and pride will live on

I read a poem that PFC Durham had written about the fires in northern Arizona, and I guess the inspiration was there. Thanks Durham, and thank you everyone who worked long, hard hours in awful conditions to help complete strangers. Firefighters, we love you.