Unfound

Paul walked under a canopy of alders—
a thirty year restoration of a dry lightning burn.

He wondered if the earth saw the area
fire-voided trees as a scar

as part of the beauty of the earth being itself
or a surface matter of little consequence.

Animals repopulated the alders as to their liking.
Others remained away missing the old growth.

Paul admitted to no one present
that the shade was different. Cooling but different.

Soot

Paul tears pages from magazines.
He collages his largest bedroom wall.
Floor to ceiling.

He adds nature to his sleep.
Greens. Luscious greens.
Tropical and alpine greens.

The collage transports
his dreams into nature,
into a better feeling.

During the day as a forest
outside of Yosemite burns,
the page on his wall of that forest

smolders, then bursts into flames
that remain confined
to the pictured trees.

Not enough smoke
to set off his smoke alarm.
Just enough to blacken his white wall.

We walked the edge.
The air tasted charred.
In places, the ground heated through to our feet.

An island remained.
Evergreens in a burn scar river.
Fortune smiled on future growth.

Crows circled for the unfortunate.
A porcupine limped across
black ground speckled with fire germinated pine seeds.