Lightning Strikes

The sun is engulfed in smoke as it sinks in the western sky.  It has changed from a burnished disk of copper into the color of a maraschino cherry waiting on the top of soft serve ice cream.

                The glassed walls of the new industrial complex on the eastern side of the highway which runs up to an old logging mill town catch the light from the sun, turning the windows into a bright neon sign glowing in the dwindling day.  There are no smokestacks billowing forth from this park.  It makes a safer form of electrical component for the modern world, but the neon like reflection brings to mind certain shady districts in an urban sprawl.  Business is just business.

                It was soon after the Fourth of July that the fires began to leap up under the heat dome.  The Media reported on the minor blazes stamped out quickly from the fireworks.  They also mentioned a ruptured femoral artery, a casualty of war.  A week later they mentioned the seventy odd lightening strikes in the state.  Their electrical discharges must have been throughout the western states.

                Most forest fires are caused by lightening you know.  Somebody was fond of telling me that.

                It must have been the “Only You” on the hat with Smokey.

                The Media also mentioned a woman dragged from her tent and eaten by a Grizzly.  Through the years, I have witnessed some live Grizzly behavior.  Mothers protecting their cubs from the young human cubs, digging burrows like big prairie dogs, bears will be bears.

                Fire will be fire.  Electricity will be electricity.  They have been observed by our kind for the twelve-million-year journey to owning industrial parks.  They were probably observed by the giant cave bear.  Ursa Major does not live here anymore.  The bear’s stars shine down in the black void above the smoke.


About johnsmithiiimxiii

John Smith, IIMXIII is the avatar of an award winning poet, artist, etc. who still lives in the Palouse country of the Pacific NW. He has not received much notice with his prose . . . but as his avatar, I hope that he keeps plugging along.

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