The
fires took four more houses down last night,
your
fragile desert landscape up in flames.
They’re
miles away, we’re safe, you set me right.
The
darkling sky looks like a storm to me.
Your
cat just ate a spider and licks his face,
they
hide in the darkened corners of your garage.
But
still, I watch the sky above our game.
You
made a triple word score with a Z
and
remind me where we are; it’ll never rain.
People
have to have some place to stay
desert
rats without the sense to flee
and
water is cheap pumped in from far away
to here
where fires feed on the dead and leap the pass.
(I
tried to feed my X to that hungry three-legged cat)
No
looming thunderstorm those kites of black.
You
remind me where we are; it’ll never rain.
The
fires took four more houses down last night.
I have posted this for Earthweal's first weekly challange: Fire
bearing witness to Earth's changing climate which is escalating beyond the most conservative scientist's expectations.