July’s scalding wind scattering black confetti.
A smoke squall, a column eclipsing the Divide,
torching spruce, spotting outside fire lines.
Sparks in the canopy, igniting drought-dried trees.
Like the full moon rising we watch the fire light,
picturing favorite places smothered, forever changed,
unwilling to envision the fate of elk and stray cattle.
While sleeping, smoke settles, waking the animal self.
Dreams of cool zephyrs, meadows snow-swollen.
Sunrise screened through viscous smoke.
800 blistered firefighters battling scorched timber
Slurry filled air support, unattainable containment.
Then, a singular breeze, snow dusted granite,
A shrug from nature, a chance to catch our breath.
Reprinted from Twisted Vignettes: Poems and Photographs.