September 2020 ~ pandemic and wildfires

Poised and breathless,
after too long away,
my whole being turned
toward home.

But the path to Crater Lake
was blocked by tortured, desiccated trees
that immolated themselves in their rage.
I can't blame them.

So I'm stranded here
unwatered
(except by my tears)
and withering.

At least I've come to know this:
I'm here. Crater Lake is there.
As sure as the two of us are real,
so is the reality of our belonging to each other.

You and I are the two ends of the rainbow
spanning the miles of fire and smoke.

How are you?

Margaret Emerson