Dixie
Packing to evacuate is a game of Tetris trying to jam your whole life into a car. Flames don't cast shadows but they level homes. The sun has no mercy and the wind is grim. Embers light up the hillside. Birds explode from trees as it crowns the ridge. Firefighters climb helicopters carry water and retardant, yet fire consumes the other side to shut down highway 89. Like a child doing cartwheels it bounds across the land. Then it lays down and makes love to the undergrowth. Columns of smoke rise. Angry dragon clouds form breathing more fire. Life becomes an apocalyptic movie flames flank the race out of town. In less than thirty minutes history erased lives displaced homes, businesses childhoods up in smoke. Scattered bricks mangled metal and soot are all that remain. __________________________________ I wrote this last year while the Dixie fire was burning. I hope it was okay to send it to you. I was inspired by the fire. I didn't know Greenville was your hometown until