Apocalyptic sky, striated brown, blankets the horizon.
The acrid air smells like a campfire smoldering in the night.
Obsessively, I check the AQI.
We have no choice but to seal ourselves inside.
Daily hikes, one of our remaining pleasures, are forsaken.
As the west coast burns, I teeter on the razor thin edge of sanity.
 |
No comments:
Post a Comment