Fire Season
The wind dies
and the sound of the pines stops
the smoke slowly settles
into depressions to smother
thoughts of bluer skies
there will be no sunset tonight
hopes of rain from the gray mass
brought in by the wind
have dissipated with the ashy
orange haze descending
from the north
where another country burns
and consumes a future
that will not be
experienced by
any unborn grandchild
and so I turn thoughts to
the now
to this small glade
within a forest
that has not yet
been touched by progress
and to my eyes that burn
with the heat of a day
spent in daydreams
Sam Hunter (she/they) believes that words can create beauty and connection, even in a troubling world. She has read and written poetry throughout her life and raised children who are readers and writers in their own ways. Sam now teaches high school language arts and social studies, allowing her to share her love of words with high school English Language Learners. She lives in Seattle, Washington.
the water and the gills 