Fire Hills

On the landing beach where people stroll, 
The Ferris wheel spins like a clock, whole, 
A Caterpillar rollercoaster crawls, 
Its tracks winding up the towering walls. 

With arms flung high into the ozone air, 
Thrill-seekers ride with nary a care, 
Dodgems and ghost train, candy floss, 
Pennies tossed into the pot with little loss. 

From hot dogs sizzling to pink flamingos, 
This place is alive with sights and sounds that echo, 
A thousand steps or a steam-powered lift, 
Up the cliff to smooth lawns with ocean drift. 

Where stone-age people traded with the past, 
Flint sharpened with care, the die was cast, 
Led by ravens in boats of yore, 
To this land of fire hills, bursting with a new score.

The hills ablaze with golden gorse, 
Blossoming hues over winter's force, 
The gloomy glens nurturing fronds unfurled, 
As life blooms again in this ancient world. 

A newt navigates a dripping spring, 
Liverwort and moss cling to green sand, a thing 
Speckled with fossil shells, a relic of time, 
As nature paints a picture both harsh and sublime. 

The great sea's waves lap the shingle shore, 
Exposing the bones of dinosaurs once more, 
Buried beneath the cliff of time's sands, 
A story told of life's intricate strands. 

The mind grasps at the cliff's sheer face, 
Layers of clay, dust, and debris in its embrace, 
Root and branch craggy and tangled, 
As small trees fall, nature's force untangled. 

Like their cousins in the petrified wood, 
The cliff's embrace keeps all that's good, 
Revealed as the tide recedes in muddy sands, 
Where sanderlings feed on lug and make their stands. 

Thus, the ancient lore of this land unfolds, 
Fire hills and ocean's majesty that never grows old, 
A reminder that life is both harsh and fair, 
As we journey through it with all its beauty and care.

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