I wonder…when its sulky breath
smothers their valley vineyards,
if we shall taste it in our cabernet…
if the torrent of its wind storm char
will translate to this sauvignon…
and will Pacific mist be cavalry
enough for temperance.
How insensitive…I know Konocti…know
some people there…taught commas,
Shakespeare, dangling participles
to disinterested adolescents who
would stay with the land and grow
their children…who would love it
more than I.
I wonder now…if The Tempest fancy
helps them face the real…how crass of me
to think it might…now as fire breathes
across their land melting trampolines
and trucks…and wide porch-ed homes
into a smolder land.
Movie Scene: A Walk in the Clouds