The good thing is that none of the wildfires currently burning are within smelling distance of my house. Even if I can't have all the windows open until the screens are fixed, at least those that are open are not wafting a stream of smoke into the house. While there are undoubtedly worse days than this ahead, there are also much better days. Barring any sudden disaster, I'll probably live long enough yet to see some of both.
by Adam Zagajewski
In the Romanesque church round stones
that ground so many prayers and generations
kept humble silence and shadows slept in the apse
like bats in winter furs.
We went out. The pale sun shone,
tinny music tinkled softly
from a car, two jays
studied us, humans,
threads of longing dangled in the air.
The present moment is shameless,
Taking its foolish liberties
Beside the wall
Of this tired old shrine,
awaiting the millions of years to come,
future wars, geological eras,
cease-fires, treaties, changes in climate—
this moment—what is it—just
a mosquito, a fly, a speck, a scrap of breath,
entering the timid grass,
inhabiting stems and genes,
the pupils of our eyes.
This moment, mortal as you or I,
was full of boundless, senseless,
silly joy, as if it knew
something we didn't