(As seen in the Santa Barbara Independent 11/20/08)
http://www.independent.com/news/2008/nov/14/voices-evacuated-tea-fire/
http://www.independent.com/news/2008/nov/26/three-poems-about-tea-fire/
Somewhere, in the thickness of sleep
I hear seagulls, calling back to the ocean
When I awake the sun is rising
out of ash, glowing muted
in the density of morning
Still cool from sleep, the sky
is ready to burn, blowing softly
through the window, bringing
the fragrant smell of wood
And houses
turned to dust, returned
to the ground, what remains
a chimney, brick
a steering wheel, steel
and a statue of four bodies
a circle of stone
An aloe plant still in the pot
standing at the driveway
columns leading to an empty lot
the ash on the ground
a layer lighter than snow
And an iron wind dial
still turning on the roof
of my house, spared
People start returning
home today if they can
eyes like the reservoirs, dry
