Autumn in L.A.
The Santa Anas
come howling down
from where and whence
unknown
like the Devil's breath
they bring smoke and death
never a hotter first fall day
has been sown
The leaves they aren't turning
But the hills
they are surely burning
And this really
really
really
sucks.
3 comments:
i feel the hotness in this poem. never been to L.A. but i can imagine how it is right now through your beautiful words.
Very Nice!!
This fire season has been brutal. Hopefully its winding down. Maybe next year there'll be nothing left to burn.
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