I do not like this kind of hope–
fragile as a newborn,
I fear for it. Say what you will,
but tread gently, please–
tundra, tagia-like,
it takes years to grow.
And I know,
I am the very last person
who should lecture you
on this. Tomorrow, till late,
it’s a red flag warning–
high winds, low humidity,
that is, fire weather–
That is, forgive
my impulsivity,
I lack a cool shore.
OPTIONAL POETRY 
My impulsivity,
I lack a cool shore
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So perfectly stated
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Thanks!
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Lovely read, I feel every moment of it.
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Thank you!
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