Tag Archives: ash

TWENTY DAYS

1.

I can taste the pines and cedars when I awake

to fuzzy black to search for stars

beyond, hoping for a clear day.

 

Choking smoke with my coffee,

with feeding cows and first-calf heifers

calving, faded coyotes close.

 

Ash falls like snow, skiffs light and dirty.

In this haze, it’s easy to get lost at home.

I track my steps to where I’m from.