« Snapshot Poem | 22 April 02013 | Main | Struggling ~ Why I've been absent »
Ashes fall from a hot,
clear sky. Bear Mountain
burns, and we taste it.
The only smell is forest-
on-fire.
Another neighborhood
is evacuated. Police,
hazmat, and federal agents
search for explosives. These
stories are unrelated.
This is a small town. Strangers
nod when they pass on the street.
Cars stop for pedestrians. Doctors
are kind. Two more days until
the surgeon cuts her open.
Then we’ll know.
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I like your poem. I have started putting my to video to try and get more exposure. I would love your opinion. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pnc-sc-4y1Q
Posted by: Randal A. Burd, Jr. | 07 February 2014 at 08:07 PM