The heat keeps rising.
Every mile here is named

for a creek or a canyon.
Looking for news on the fire,

now there’s two. It’s happened
before,  homes becoming structures,

evacuation orders, an influx
of hotshots to hold the line.

By day, the smoke and the sun
make it hard to see the flames.

An acrid haze falls across
the lake, the helitack teams

scoop up buckets of water
to dump on the perimeter.

Closer though, the sky goes
orange, the hills turn black,

an irregular border advances,
spreading like malignancy.

And at night, as always,
there’s no denying things.

Dawns are ashy, the wind
picks up and the fire moves on,

a living thing.
The hungriest.