Acrid daydreams

Summer’s heat was formidable, 

I could not see the wildfire,

but only smell, that acrid cloud, 

its furnace curtained by mountains.

Do you remember that summer?

There was a burning house on 5 mile,

the one with a caved-in roof 

where ripe thimbleberries scattered 

the side of the road.

Do you remember when 

we heard a cougar cry, 

not far from our house,

it sounded like a small child 

protesting the end of a beach day.