Some mornings are Edenic
with birdsong, cool breezes, and a lovely sliver
of the moon rising above Black Butte.
We sit outside and sip our morning coffee
and watch the swallows dip and dart.
Other mornings have a sinister air,
with wildfire smoke surfing on heat waves,
bringing vistas that hint at apocalyptic times.
We stay inside and check the fire updates,
and make sure our “bug out” kit is packed.
I try to watch the mornings come and go
without attaching meaning to the vista.
But I must confess that watching Siskiyou County
change in seven decades from a land of glaciered mountains,
rushing streams, and crystal lakes,
into a region best described as “high desert,”
brings tears, and makes our climate crisis clear
Nothing I can do about it, though.
I, like all the rest, must live the times I’m given;
and I do, with gratitude for what is gained
and what is lost in the Great Dance.
I’ll nurture land and tend to what is mine to do,
and perhaps one day, a millennia hence,
someone will wake near where I am today
and build a morning fire with wood
from trees I can’t imagine, and see the moon
rise in the dawning sky, and sing a song of gratitude
for all that came together to allow
his own special morning to arise.