California and Coffee

Yosemite
I didn’t know it could be like this. 
Towering ancient beings 
shaped and warped by time 
by water, brook and pine.

They spill and topple over.
A waterfall so powerful 
you could lose your place 
or a misty rainbow catching the light.
I never knew such magnificence.

Now the fires are raging. 
The Andes winds howl and roar 
through angles of valley and stone.
Fear pierces into all our hearts.

Helpless to change and put out the embers.
We watch attached to our screens 
a tether to destruction unseen 
over here in the quiet of winter.

For once the winds have softened. 
For once the sky looks pale blue 
hovering above the trees’ branches.
All life hangs on a delicate balance.

What seems so certain and steady. 
– a fabric of time – 
Now worn and bare with use and misuse.

I pour my mug of coffee and taste its flavor 
gathered by hungry hands 
from other lands around the globe.

Here, the steam starts to rise 
and I am no less for the weary.
My heart goes out to the bean gatherers 
who climb treetop and limb.
Their work is not unseen.

Not knowing their hardships and woes
Just to give my morning meaning 
and energy to face the day.

My heart goes out to those that are burning, 
whose lives and all they hold dear 
so fragile and near.

Near to loss, near to fierce blazing embers 
who hangs on by a thread of safety, 
neither real nor imagined.