Here we go again, with smoke, ash, wind, heat and fire.
The air is parched and acrid with the scent of scorch.
Flecks of ash flit like gnats and catch the sun like dusty snowflakes.
Through a veil of pale pink and blue haze far buildings seem dark.
As I drive by old familiar trees, my mind's eye sees them kindled blaze.
Workplaces close, the freeways are sparse but slow.
Down a dry canyon stretch, I see in front of me, a driver flicking
cigarette ash from her dangling hand, not once but repeatedly,
Should I honk? Should I yell? There aught to be a law.
Will this fire be worse than last time?
Will it race up the dry grass covered hillsides near my home?
Will any firefighters be nearby to react in time if it does?
or are they all struggling to contain the conflagrations north and east?
I've packed a bag, and check the local news.
Their web server is struggling with the load.
I don't know if I'm being too paranoid... or too complacent.
Little to do but wait.