Santa Ana Wind
Within ageless canyons we hold our breath.
Ash clouds engulf us, survival or death?
Santana stampedes, pariah unchained.
‘Tis Dante’s hellhound of Hades renamed!
Chased from our homes and all else that we own,
Panicked we flee, to a refuge unknown.
Behind us a past we can never forget
The clear hills of May, June’s swallows…regret.
Sparked up by nature, mishap or misdeed
Transmission line wires sing songs we must heed.
Flora in peril. Restore what is left!
Redeem our planet for which we’ve been blest.
Wildfires delivering whirlwinds of flame.
Let’s pledge to assure renewal sustained.
Copyright © Ken Rone | Year Posted 2021
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