Nova Scotia’s Fires

In the cool, late spring light of early June,

Three yellow tea roses, and then three more

Unfurl their tender petals to the smoke

Of forest fires, northern ancestors

And the lives they housed sacrificed godward

To the moneyed titans who will have

What they will have, with no expenses spared,

Greed flooding the air with mortal remains

Of our last hope for clean air, a cool earth.

A neighbor tells me, don’t over-react:

We have been through this–a volcano, once….

A red rose blooms while a songbird bathes

In dehumidifier water I have saved.