decisions
four fires
in one day
in our county
today
I tell my son
of the first smoke plume I saw
years after moving here
none more seen for years
now there’s something new
in the weather forecast –
fire watch:
like tornados, but longer
more hot windy nervous weather
on the horizon
how many go bags
should we pack?
how far away is far enough?
how close is still safe?
CD2 Assembly
hundreds of us Zoom in
to send Joe back to Washington
there’s no one else we want
we just must jump through hoops
to check the boxes
to make it so
I explain to Cedar
I’m taking dinner in the guest room
because I’m saving democracy
(I’m not, but Joe may)
the morning after the fire
Polis, Neguse, Bennet
grim in the chopper
yet still reassuring –
citizen leaders who understand warming
have a healthy fear of climate change
and aren’t afraid to make good trouble
we’ll send them back into the firefight
at least one more round
what’s missing
I can see the wind waving the trees
but can’t hear it
the cabin walls tight
though not warm –
we need the crackle
of fire
Ode to Betsy’s Linen (Valspar #7005-16)
at Bates
I gained an appreciation for
off-white:
all the cream correspondence they sent
before I even arrived,
every dorm wall and pipe
painted this warmer
easier-to-be-in shade,
not blinding white but ivory
and now for years and years
we’ve dipped our brushes in
“Betsy’s Linen,”
her tentative cheeriness
papering over whatever other gestures there’ve been,
making the setting a little more calm
a little more circumspect
(not really changing the parameters of anything)
but smoothing order and a warm openness
onto difficult days
things are almost never black-and-white
but sometimes they’re neutral
inviting fire
in the cabin it’s warm
but not cozy
the crackle and flicker
the exuberance of combustion
are missing
sometimes fire sits with us
like an old friend
sometimes it levels us
poof
all up in smoke
natural dissonance
the irony isn’t lost on me
running the air purifier
and the oven self-clean cycle
simultaneously:
we all do our best
to manage our inconsistencies
in the dark
under the stars
Fennec is tense with listening
uncomfortable to be out in the wild night
but curious what’s here
inside, the boys squabble over
who can help rip out the carpet
Alex says it’s like Huck Finn
but we all breathe easier
when the orange shag’s removed
at the spring
we all look up and know
this is why we’re here
trying to get clean
air purifiers –
hot new accessory of the 2020s
with prefilters in an array of colors
to match your moods –
I go for charcoal
over electric blue
when we open it
the boys discuss how it compares
to the ones at their schools
especially in their auditoriums
it’s one more thing I’ve never dealt with
that these times demand
first night at the cabin
burning our wedding candle
twenty-one years later
at nine thousand feet
surrounded by snow
the flame gives me joy
I don’t worry it will go out
or burn the house down
I just admire
its warm glow
on my bare skin
grandfathering
Superior says it will roll back
the measures agreed to earlier
and I feel a mixture
of rage and despair
nothing will change if we don’t change
if our investment in the future doesn’t change
if our willingness to live differently doesn’t change
if we don’t learn from our mistakes
we’re doomed
(we’re probably doomed anyway
but then we’ll be indefensibly doomed)
Escape
I’m dreaming of a little place
in tall trees
lit by sunshine and snow
and golden aspen light
a place so flush with water
it bubbles out of the ground
and you can float on a pond
when you need to let go
I’m dreaming of a small space
with not too much to burn
that heats up quick
with the strike of a match
I’m dreaming of a break
from ash and scrap
where I can settle my head
deep into down
and dream blue white green dreams
where all breezes are innocent
all sparks kept to the stove
