Photo-poem (verses and photograph) copyrighted
© by Scott Ferry. All rights reserved.

This week is supposed to hit 95 
but the pall of smoke wraps the cedars 

and cottonwoods above my daughter’s school 
in a net of exhaust. The kids have to remain inside, 

sweltering, like what we thought nuclear winter 
may look like in the ’80s, or a great plague, locusts of ash 

consuming pine and chaparral and sage across 
five states. Why can’t we go swimming in the 

outdoor pool? she asks. The answer will not 
be available until the rain comes, I think. 

I take her anyway, and all the photos 
near the Puget Sound look cinnamon 

as October, as we watch the sun 
blur into the edge of the world 

like cooked blood. 

Scott Ferry

helps our veterans heal as an RN. In previous lives he taught high school and practiced acupuncture. He has recent writing in Cultural Weekly, Swimming with Elephants, Slippery Elm, and Noble/Gas Qtrly, among others. His first collection, The only thing that makes sense is to grow, will be published by Moon Tide Press in early 2020.

Poet’s website: https://ferrypoetry.com