I forgot to post this poem – it was written on the 6th as we were travelling through the Cariboo. The haze made the background seem two dimensional.
Treed mountains, layered in smoke,
recede into the haze; cut-out silhouettes; mere jagged,
misty dreams of the real terrain beneath.
And in the foreground emerge the trees, clearer now,
more defined, more detail in their sweeping boughs and
pendant moss; skeletons of their ancestors propped up
in their arms, standing witness.
There is a sense of waiting in the air
and a taste of ashes on the tongue.
words to express my sorrow for the devastation that has descended upon so much of our beautiful province.
homes. Most of the ones we’ve seen so far were only separated from the carbon blackened landscape by the narrow strip of pavement (Highway 97 and 99). I can only imagine how frightening that must have been. I guess Life with a capital L can be kind of scary at times.
Linda Studley 