The Tea Fire shut the Balcony down for a few days, focused
all attention on the here and now, on the direction of the wind,
the temperature and the latest count of homes destroyed
Helicopters chugged overhead like a war zone, only now fighting devil winds and unforgiving heat
The moon turned orange, soot blanketed our cars; the home of a friend went up, an aunt lost everything in less time than it takes to drive to Ventura
Power went out and we fumbled for flashlights and candles as sirens cut the smoky darkness; the blaze jumped and skipped across dry hillsides, laughed at the men who gathered to make a stand in million dollar cul-de-sacs
Rich and poor got the same treatment, not from God but from the hand of careless Man
Drunk maybe, stoned maybe, or maybe just giddy with Youth, playing with fire in a field of tinder; an errant ember latched onto the devil wind’s breath as the sun slipped from sight
One spark to one bush to one tree
And then a car and a house
And another and another, and the sky dripped flame while the wind ran in circles, herding sparks to still more bushes and trees, unstoppable now, an insatiable force, indiscriminate, uncaring
Disaster on Thursday, disbelief on Friday, despair on Saturday, destitution on Sunday
Survivors poke through the rubble in search of miracles
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