A shame, the ashen cliffs. Grey, brown, and black, where there were plants, life. Gone. Devastation.
Burned ridges and landslides, where roots had held the earth. Trees with needles falling. Barren rock exposed.
No more, the beauty, this place once held, yet I see a glimmer, watching new growth.
At the base of the cliffs, green underbrush climbs, making its slow ascent, to heights it claimed before.
Animals return, searching, through their ruins. Nature battles on. A slow reclamation.
So many scars. So much lost. Now the birth, of a new forest.