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.