The summer air captures me
in its pollen laced grasp,
as I sit in silent thought
on a hill of dried grass.
The wildfire burns in the east
its smoke filling the valley below,
hiding the buildings and cars
obscuring my daily show.
Only a barn lost this time,
not like the fire south,
it took five homes away
left lives forever changed.
All I see is dry weeds
fresh tinder for a blaze,
behind me a hundred houses
could be gone in days.
The heat dries my lips,
hands, arms, and feet,
I walk away from my perch
to my A/C retreat.
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