There were motes of ash
caught in the spider webs
in the vine beside the driveway.
Replacing the usual morning dew.
And somewhere, perhaps
a rainbow gleamed behind
the lightning and the curtain
of rain that never reached
the homes and trees and hills
transformed into charcoal
and rubble behind a veil
of flame and smoke.
Someone said they saw
otters in the creek
where none had been seen
in half a century.
Which would be fine
if there were enough
salmon fingerlings
to feed them. There aren’t.
Plenty of room in our hearts
for otters and salmon,
and the calico kitten
joining our home real soon.
Does that love pour out
the window and down the street?
Around the corner, the country
across the sea?
It does for me.
As much as I can;
though it is hard sometimes
isn't it? To feel it more
Than merely to assert
I care, I love, you matter.
That’s where small creatures
feed us, lead us into tenderness.
Shelter that love carefully.
Cup it like a candle.
Don’t let the storm
that would gladly snuff it, in.
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