I waken to the sky a peachy pink hue
its beauty entrancing
the black widow of weather
I sense its danger
the air thick to breathe
and smoky to taste
sits heavy on the rooftops
like an overfed unwelcome guest
the fires are closer
go-bag packed and ready to go
I dread evacuation
trying not to be reminded
that everything I leave behind
I must be ready to lose
I am not
yet these annual infernos
have become kin
living in our back bedrooms all year
until brought out
by the siren call of hot east winds
dragging destruction
and promising renewal in their wake
how do I pack a lifetime in a go-bag?
what is too precious to be left behind?
a sophie’s choice indeed
as I make decisions
I vow not to regret later
Vilma Ginzberg 9-9-2020