California Burning
Sirens blaring in the distance;
hot winds blowing one direction, then turning.
We are loading what we can into one pickup and one small car,
unprepared for California burning.
We've lived here twenty years and more,
so we should know the drill by heart;
load the the things you can't replace, the meds, and clothes for a few days,
then cross your fingers the vehicles start.
Where to go, what to do; no family left here,
and everyone we think we know is in the same situation,
all evacuating too.
So we drive to where the fire is not,
as we think silent prayers for the firefighters, the trees, the wildlife
and we hope that in a few days or weeks, we'll be returning
coming back to our home or to what's left,
after California's done burning.
Mountain Lions
We don't have mule deer here, and that's a lion's favorite food
in California, so they say;
but still, some female lions come to our valley to have their young.
Every time I see a mama and a cub, I wonder if it'll be
the last time to view something that special,
and then a year or two goes by and I'm seeing that scene again.
So while they're here, mama teaches them to hunt rabbits.
We have plenty of bunnies here.
Then comes a day she takes them from here to another valley
where they can grow up hunting mule deer.
One day, I saw two young men across the valley,
wearing camouflage suits and carrying guns with scopes.
They went up a tree-covered wash on the side of the hill,
looking for a lion to kill.
I heard no shots and later saw the men emerge and walk away,
so the lions were lucky and lived another day.
Developers want the area of the valley that surrounds the open space, so sooner
rather than later, we'll see ugly little houses all over the place,
and the lions will leave the valley.
I hope they find some place to go, but I doubt they will.
Some idiots in camouflage suits will likely go in, quietly, for the kill.
My Little Corner of the County
Skeleton trees with bare arms pointing to the sky,
whose branches used to be green and fruit-laden,
now resemble noble ghost warriors, dead and unloved.
They turned off the faucets that watered your thirst
and they'll plow you under soon.
Who needs avocados when we can use the land to build on?
This land with zoning restrictions that they will change
so they can build more houses.
My little corner of the county doesn't have beaches or sand,
nothing loud, no street fights, no stores or playgrounds,
no churches or gas stations.
Rural is how this area is defined.
We do have rabbits, quail, goldfinches, roadrunners too.
A herd of cows is in the valley below.
So many pleasant things here, just a few miles from the freeway.
And there's a quiet here that's intense enough to play with your mind.
I do not like poisonous snakes,
neither the reptilian nor the human kind.
The latter is here in the form of a developer
who wants to build about two thousand homes nearby
in an area that should have about ten.
We'll fight him with petition drives and such,
delaying the building, but knowing full well
that he'll win. He has the money. It happens again and again.
For now, that species of Gnatcatcher bird
that nests down the hill, may be the area's last hope.
He's on the brink of extinction so they have to spare
his nesting area for now.
The developers have the money and sooner or later
they'll change the rules of the game.
But for now, I'll sit in my little corner of the county
and enjoy it for as long as we have it, just the same.
Spring Visitor
O say, can you see him fly over the valley,
his wings stretched wide to catch the breeze?
This condor, visiting from up the coast, in search of a mate or a friend,
or maybe he's here to see me?
He only flies this way in spring,
and there are years I've missed seeing him fly by,
so the next year I'll plant myself outside with a view to the north,
and wait as I watch the sky.
If I'm in the house for a minute, I could miss him,
and I missed him three years in a row,
but the next time I saw him, he flew over on two different days,
and that was two years ago.
I'd love to see him swoop to the ground,
but I'll settle for seeing him just soar around.
I wonder sometimes of the people who live
in the area near where he nests.
Do they think seeing him is an important sort of thing?
Well, they're lucky, but so am I,
since I consider his appearance here to be
a true rite of Spring!
California Burning #2
You never know when,
until you wake up one morning
with a Santa Ana outside,
and suddenly it's happening again.
They've evacuated Malibu this time,
as smoke fills the coastal skies,
gray and white and black,
tumbling and churning.
Thousands of homes are threatened
while California's burning.
It's clear here today, with just a trace
of smoke smell on the wind
that wafted in from far away,
and nothing threatens us here.
We awakened to fire planes flying overhead,
going to where the fire is
to make sure it doesn't spread.
From September to December and
sometimes in the Spring,
we put up with this madness.
It's a hard lesson we're learning;
that however nice it is to live in paradise,
there's always part of the year
when California's burning