Yesterday we drove South County – our home for almost a quarter century, where the Caldor Fire just roared through. Here’s a poem from a few months before: stanza 1 as if premonition; that spot didn’t burn, but now a great swath of forest is cleared as firebreak along the road. Thanks to firefighters who saved so much! (photo from 2 months ago)
Revisiting
1
A patch of forest primeval between clearcut & control burn, slash-piles higher
than the roof we left at home. Stop here. We’ll never see this view again.
2
This logging road – we trained our dogs here once – ridge that drops to river –
I saw steaming-fresh bear scat – barely missed the bear. Now I see the bear
as clear as recollection.
3
Lava cliffs unchanged in 30 years, and the same old sign: End of County Road.
I dodge new ruts & rocks, wish we had the off-road truck that wouldn’t smog.
Or have I just grown too cautious?
4
A globe of thistledown iridescent as a bubble – careful not to shake it free –
old age of a flower that’s not quite ready to fly away.
