Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
| Fire in the woods Four words of dread as lodgepine flames and underbrush burns. The distant fires send smoke signals to warn us: fire in the woods, where flare ups coalesce and devour what lies in between combining forces in a wall of heat racing east burning what lies in its path. We hear news from China, fairy tales of a fiery foe. But from afar: too foreign, not us, not US; we brush them off as some fantasy. Do we ever heed smoke signals, the lightning strikes, the looming black clouds that seek to consume us. Do we wait too long then flee with only what we have on, leaving our life behind as blinded, mankind buries its apprehensions as comprehension dawns in ash, as piles of Mardi Gras masks catch fire, all good intentions neatly stacked on the funeral pyre. KE [177.53] (27.april.2020) |