Ash
Bleeding,
a gushing river,
the grey of ash,
has stopped the heart of the land.
Our weekend mountain hikes frozen,
into a memory of California dreaming......
now our masks filter
the stench of burnt plastic bottles
that replace the sun danced flowers of spring,
as we await the rebirth
with a pounding raindance.
Copyright © Kathryn Sweeney | Year Posted 2017
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