362 Miles

Woke up to sun
and no smoke.
Birds prattling on,
two daffodils finally up and shining
from our front walk mulch.
Nice place, this.  Nice place.

No smoke
for miles around.  No fire

not currently under control.
This is not to say that
there’s nothing smoldering here,
or that we’re not so far from Baltimore
that we know nothing of burning

or why things burn.  
It’s just that right now

this is a nice place,
and if we do smell smoke
it’s got to be from 362 miles away,
carried on a strong wind
from a place where

birds bloom
and flowers chirp, where everything’s

a little backwards. 
If we do smell smoke here —
do we smell smoke here?  
No, can’t be. We keep sniffing,

must just be
power of suggestion; well, maybe
a little something there, a little

something on that wind.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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