Smoke
Smoke as thick as London fog
Suppresses the lightness,
Turns the sun into a fiery ball,
That glows menacingly above.
Depression settles in
When day and night
Prevent clarity
And shadows stay hidden.
Lingering, the smoke
Creeps into every crevice,
Snakes around trees
And swallows them whole.
The mask, infused with Eucalyptus oil,
Makes breathing easier.
What about the eyes?
They are burning and tearing.
A doe with her twin fawns
Visits the water trough,
Out by the blackberries,
Sharing the coolness with the bees.
Dreams as muddled as the land
About past lovers
And a barefoot boy…
“Bring me Killboy!” She said.
The buzz of the air purifier,
The smell of ozone inside,
Sleep came and stayed,
Uninterrupted by coughing fits.
Still mulling over the dream she had
What is a Killboy?
People walking through her thoughts,
Uninvited, they connect her to her birth place.
There is an eeriness
permeating the stale air,
Infused with the sound of silence.
No birds sing their morning song.
Hiking Poet 