There’s a forest fire in the Croatan National Forest a few miles away from me. Close enough so we have air quality alerts and I got ash in my hair when I walked my dog yesterday. And there was a meteor shower last night but I didn’t even try to watch it because of the ash.

But I was sad about it. It occurred to me how very subjective our experiences are. The trees are dying. People are risking their lives to stop it. But I can’t see the stars.

Of course I wrote a poem about it.

Forest Ash
By Michelle Garren-Flye

I thought we could watch the stars fall
together in in the light of the fading crescent
but what’s falling now is ash from the forest
that’s burning across the river.

The dead souls of a thousand trees 
block our view of streaking stars 
and the silver moon has turned orange,
and is too weak to shine through death.

Across the river and through the woods
people are fighting to save the trees
but here in my backyard I’m sad
I can’t look into the heavens with you.