This October we don air masks
instead of Halloween masks.
We miss fresh air
amid the smell of gas and smoke.
Holiday lights are now hallway lights.
We sit radio side by candlelight,
hanging on every word of news,
praying for those in harms way.
Our neighbor’s generator rumbles.
Wind whistles. The house shudders.
Anxiety hums its repetitive tunes.
Our bags are packed just in case.
We don’t know which way the flames will race.
We try to relax the old fashioned way:
reading, writing, and radio.
We long for normalcy,
for a hot meal.
When it’ll come,
the wind only knows.