As usual I could not find my phone,
disoriented, swatting the air, 

a sore back, a thirst for coffee,
and nothing has changed 

on this the day of my birth. 
Ten years ago I wrote 

about the apple trees
in my parent’s front yard, 

saying summer is over,
I will leave in days– 

their new house now
is surrounded by orchards, 

the lush rows sparing it
from fire after fire. 

The foothills are stark there,
the sky seems bigger, 

and when the smoke clears
you can see for miles.  

A loss of greenery, 
and the benefit of clarity. 

Vineyard terracing pins 
the slopes in place,

soon the grapes will start
to turn, gaining color, going

sweet from sour, growing
softer, rounder, riper, better.