9.19.2020 [adirondack]

The first tree
to fire into autumn
has turned
and the smell of leaves
and fire sweeten the air
just like last year and the year
before and the year before, though perhaps a bit
more beautifully this year,

all unknowing of wildfires to the west
and fire storms of rage and
hurt and fear in the city
while we sit in recycled plastic
adirondack chairs in the front yard
and share a bottle of safely distanced
pinot noir with friends we haven’t really
greeted except by Zoom chat
in months.

above us a small bird
perhaps confused by the turn of light and smoke
has hit a window; it too rests
dazed and bewildered
in our grass.


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