I am sadly creating quite a collection of fire poems. This poem is from the Paradise Fires. So many fires. It hot even in San Francisco today and smoky. So many people have lost homes and livelihoods and have it way worse than us. My thoughts are with them.

Avocet Online first published this poem and it also appears in my debut book of poetry, Inner Sunset. Available in bookstores and also on Kindle.

FIRES BURN IN PARADISE

The San Francisco morning sky
is dirty dishwater,
texture of floating flour dust,
smell of burning electrical wires.

At our coast, silver mist and fog
flows, ebbs, streams.
This matte beige air is thick
unmoving, silent.

Code Red Air Quality looks like this.
Up north, firefighters and neighbors battle, flee.
I sip my lapsang souchong tea,
now disturbed by its smoky taste.