Hello dryness, my old friend,
You have parched earth's sandy skin,
And now a fire softly creeping
Spread its flames while I was sleeping
And the smoke that was drifting o'er the plain
Amid the sound of sirens.
Living in most parts of the western United States means fire danger, so I'm not totally surprised when I crack open a bathroom window this morning before taking a shower and smell smoke. A few minutes later, I learn of the wildfire about a mile away, and that my home sits in a pre-evacuation zone. In other words: limbo. I gather the few valuables I claim, go on with the day. Periodically, I check updates from the city's Office of Emergency Management or peek at the smoke leaking from a nearby canyon. I notice how the usual ambient noise is studded with aircraft fly-bys and siren songs. Thanks, police and fire crews. I wish you an uneventful evening.