By Elaine Verdill
Not quite Pompeii or Vesuvius erupting
but the smoke pours across the valley with the same
dense intensity, all green to gray
and the sunlight disappears
It’s not Mt. St. Helens again,
no ash on the ground, but motes in the air;
people continue their daily routines, slowly,
as transients show their daily signs:
dancing cigarettes, long ash and burning,
the major forest fire outside of town not their concern
Elaine Verdill
Elaine Verdill’s poetry can be found in American Chordata, Claudius Speaks, Colorado Life Magazine, and other such publications.