wind in the cottonwoods
wind from the west
pushing the smoke toward us
such thick smoke-haze
and a strange orange disc moving through the sky
the sun barely showing through the grey that was not clouds
i felt slightly uneasy all day
in my journal this afternoon
as i was looking west
toward the long pine mountains
which i know are there even when shrouded in smoke
i wrote:
i lift my eyes up to the mountains
where does my help come from?
my help comes from You, maker of Heaven, Creator of the Earth
if i turned my face to the west and breathed deep
the smell of smoke made me lonesome for ben
maybe some of this smoke is from the woodrat fire
maybe i'm breathing some of the same smoke
that ben was breathing earlier today or yesterday
maybe. but probably not
though we are always under the same sky