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San Joaquin Valley
September 21, 2015
When I roll down my windows
On the country back-roads,
I smell Death.
When the sun rose today—
What sun?—
The ash was too thick.
The grass, once lush on campus,
Crackles underfoot,
Amongst the dead Magnolias.
Sweat pours down our cheeks,
And that pungent scent rises:
The smell of Death.
I can no longer feel
The life pulsing around me.
I just…feel…out of…breath.
© Rebecca Y., Los Angeles, CA
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With the fires and heat, valley residents can relate.