Waveforms

In the darkest days of the year—
we stare out the window
through the long winter night
as piping hot brush fires grow,
consuming the eastern ridge.
Existence quavers in question:
During the dry hibernal season,
dusky smoke bodes dispossession
by advancing the fluted flame.
Vast swaths of tinder spark,
incinerating the chapparal.
All night choppers slice the dark
over wildscape dependent on dousing.
They quell the ominous stygian
vortex by cascading seawater
to save us from oblivion.

The gleaming time of year—
we gaze out the window.
At the turn of the winter solstice
when the piping hot sunglow
dips green behind the ocean,
a festival of pastels glimmers
as dusk overcomes perception.
High-contrast existence shimmers
into waveforms of aliveness.
Through the long January starlight,
time fades ever so gently
before the vast tender night.
Thrilled by cascading water
along the coastal meridian,
we listen for the fluted surf
foaming us into oblivion.