Fire Lily

In honor of the anniversary of the Palisades and Eaton fires.

The flames began
sinister, gently
 
licking their way 
up hillsides, transforming
ancient oaks and palms 
into monolithic roman candles. 

Chewing toyon to dust 
and sage to powder. 
 
Yellow hillsides gasped
then collapsed 
into cinders. 
Sparks flew
migrating
like butterflies 
from tree to tree.

I wept as 
legions of sunflowers 
surrendered
their wild beauty
in what seemed to be
some ancient offering.

Their bodies 
ascending as they
turned to smoke.

***

When it was over I returned
to gardens of concrete.

My hands
traced the broken pieces 
of what was once my home.
 
Nearby amongst the ash
a patient fire lily 

revealing her tender petals 
flares skyward 
dazzling 
a scorching, blazing 
red.

Nearly invisible, 
astounding. 
After decades of waiting,
her moment finally. 
Here.