waiting for enough rain.


new mexico is in a drought. there are fires here. the other night we watched the smoke plume grow and move towards us.

the light of the setting sun was spectacular,

a thomas kinkaide painting gone terribly awry.

or perhaps, aright.

out of such destruction, a strange beauty.

once the sun set, the flames lept. we watched a ridge on fire.

with enough distance, a very real terror was beautiful.

we awoke to a thin white sprinkle of ash on the ground.




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