No moon, no stars,
only fire engines on the ridge,
their lights flashing.
And a helicopter overhead.
The wind howling all day,
the house creaking,
the car at the ready in the driveway.
Only the whole state is burning.
Nowhere to go.
The sun set in a blood red balloon,
the air is worse than burnt Peking Duck.
I never thought I’d spend
the end of days
playing with a cat,
And of course, sneezing.
No moon, no stars.
At least I got to try that new Indian restaurant.
[currently we’re not being evacuated, just feeling horrible for those who have been and it is nightmarishly dark here]