brushfire [30 May 2009|11:51pm] [ mood | pensive ] My eyes burn and water the way they did during Arizona wildfire season. Those were the times of wondering if the power would go out due to the fires that started from cigarettes thrown from car windows or simply heat on dry brush as the desert landscape became that of the sun. We climbed onto the roof with cameras and binoculars, recording and plotting, hoping the sky wouldn't swallow the horizon. During the day we could not see the flames. Pieces of ash and charred bone drifted on the wind. At night, the flame returned, transforming the mountains into lava. The coyotes did not sing in the washes, nor did the mule deer dance on the mesas by hoof-tip. Starving, burned animals started appearing. A mountain lion was spotted in the daytime, at an hour that it should not have been awake. A depressed, renegade bear wandered in to steal honey from our hives. A cat without an eye showed up. Someone found a crayfish sitting in a solitary puddle in the middle of miles of desert. A giant bull broke through the fence and frightened us. We all held our breaths and waited. The air smelled of chaparral and time passing. The fire continued to burn. I learned a fresh shade of betrayal from a lover. Today feels a step away from the fires of then. 7 comments|post comment

navigation [ viewing | May 30th, 2009 ] [ go | previous day|next day ]