some wonder is lost in this world, I can only imagine what the ancients might think of such a day, and what angered their gods, for what else might have strangled the sky in a blanket of orange, with the clear smoke of fire by scent but no fire within any sight, or would this be known to them as what wildfires do, what they produce allowed to blossom in their season of natural norms, but I quite imagine the sky at night, on nights like these, where there is no light, obscured by phenomenon all explained by our all knowing weatherman, our digital shamans of this age, yet still wrong on so many occasions but the same comfort provided, those in the know to engage the masses who go about their daily life, how far are we evolved from the primitive I wonder, because of our paved roads, bound lines crisscross to provide light, one fragile flick, a serpent’s tongue kiss of the strongest coronal ejection might cause amiss, one flicker and we find out, how far out, we really might be, looking at this orange smoky mass that has descended down from northern neighbor’s town, and wonder which gods did we anger and how to supplicate them… until the next unseen event even if our sight is so young and bent (and jaded).

notes… the day when Canadian wildfires threw strength south, surely a strange site this made for a day, a light itch in my eyes and throats as the day progressed, the peak was around 2pm when I could look out my window and see the world as a red dying giant might, or will, someday.