Devastation

 

Wind
like hundreds galloping horses
tear through the woods

breaking trees, felling power lines
like Archimedes’s eureka moment of sudden insight
sparks sprout

trees light up
hiding the stars
blaze dances, laughs, gathering energy

hellish felicity descends
fire pours it’s peaking power
valley asleep or dazed

immobile, innocent, whole neighborhood
stands on the way
leave, hurry, unprepared

Helpless

Swift in devastation
ashes, interrupted silence

morning comes

fields of desolation

grief, too heavy
even for God
to carry.

note: Multiple fires started in Napa and Sonoma shortly after midnight on Sunday. More than 1500 dwellings, 72000 acres burned down. 15 deaths,
and climbing. The fires still zero contained.

Mrs. Abstract and I and our families are safe. Several of our friends lost their homes.

Tuesday poem

note: I just read the poem “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop quoted in the article Living With Cancer: Practicing Loss by SUSAN GUBAR APRIL 24, 2014, New York Times.

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.