For A Season

Smoke from Canadian fires leaves a haze in the morning that stings my eyes, coats my tongue and taints the food I eat. Each breath brings in more of the fine soot, settling into the low places in my lungs, providing nutrients for the forest inside my chest where ferns and mushrooms speak of logic and physics with bristlecone pine trees. The earth reclaims her carbon through fire blessing me with spectacular sunsets.

Advertisements