No Mountain

The mountain is shrouded in smoke. Day three.

Millions of acres of land, trees, animals burn.
Gone.

Wind carries this grief north along the pacific. Doesn’t care that the border is closed.

Because we forget we belong here. We forget it is our job to take care of our home planet as an extension of our bodies.

A moth called the gypsy is overabundant this season. Further endangering trees as they feast on the conifer’s silver needles. A few days ago they swirled like a flurry of snow around my laughing children. A dream from the summer of 2013 came to mind. Moths and ash falling like snow. But we are here. This is our North Star. The paradise we choose to love and tend.

There is no where to escape our inherent connection to one another.

This morning the moths are gone too. The birds have swallowed their songs.

Today we are building forts, playing cards, coloring card board boxes, and putting off our garden projects.

Thinking of the bears, deer, coyotes, cougars, birds, squirrels, butterflies and bees in the mountain. They are out there breathing our forgetfulness.

I am so sorry for these losses.

And I am furious at our human negligence.