The Sky is Falling

When the Old Man fell,
it interrupted all scheduled programming,

including Brittany’s tenth birthday party,
where I was one minute feeling,

to pin the tail on the donkey,
and the next waiting,
to hear the sound
of a pin
falling.

Falling,
like ashes,
ashes
from the sky
in Oregon.

Fifteen years later,
children circle around me,
as if I were campfire,
to tell stories of their favorite hikes,
as if they happened yesterday.

I circle around what happened yesterday.

Climate-Change-Fueled Wildfires
Pollute the Air, Make People Sick.
74 Acres and Counting, Burning.

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