Woke up early
Surprised by the silence
No birds chirping their head off
The sun seemed veiled
Sky is hazed
Checking on the weather app
Sunny all day
Went in the garden
Smokey air greeted me, fire,
This is summer at its worst
Lucky if the wind does not rise
It may be contained
Brought back all the memories
Of burning ridges,
Smoke as dense as fog
And the waiting days and nights
To know which way the fire would travel
Packing the essential and precious
Keeping inside children and pets
Waiting for the time that a decision
Has to be made to stay or to leave
This is summer at its worst.
L. Bailliet copyright
20/01/2013
