Smokey the Bear heads <br />into the autumn woods <br />with a red can of gasoline <br />and a box of wooden matches. <br /> <br />His ranger's hat is cocked <br />at a disturbing angle. <br /> <br />His brown fur gleams <br />under the high sun <br />as his paws, the size <br />of catcher's mitts, <br />crackle into the distance. <br /> <br />He is sick of dispensing <br />warnings to the careless, <br />the half-wit camper, <br />the dumbbell hiker. <br /> <br />He is going to show them <br />how a professional does it.<br /><br />Billy Collins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flames/
