November 13, 2016
© Ray Zimmerman
Last night a moon red as hot iron
on a blacksmith’s forge
shone through smoky haze,
threatened the city’s skyline.
Trees on every nearby mountain ignited
like strike anywhere matches,
blaze spreading from tree to tree.
Headlights of automobiles
bounced along highways,
shone through ash and soot.
An arsonist confessed to setting
three of the fires.
The press carried no report of his motives.
The insane dance of a burning world
where once the earth was green.