My jeans. They’re kind of rough
to the touch, and button-up blue,
which is okay with me.
The lower cuffs are stiff
with dried dew from the grasses
I walked through this morning.

The sun shone dimly red
from the wildfire up north.
It looked like I was on
an African savannah,
with the grasses, and the sun
peering through the cottonwoods.
Except, let’s be honest:
I’ve never been to Africa,
so how would I know?

Still, it doesn’t quite look
like home. The Canadian
wildfires, and the one
down in the Chuckanuts,
have cast a heavenly glow
over the landscape. As I walk
past the pond, the surface
shimmers bronze between
the lily pads. The flowers,
usually pink-tinged white,
are orange this morning
from the new light.
Even the rabbits are out
to nibble from the gold
and green grasses.