HORSES IN THE HEAT

by Matt Witt

Photograph by Matt Witt.

We used to joke

that the old farmer’s horses

were “out standing in their field.”

 

But now it’s 115 degrees

and it’s all they can do

to breathe.

 

They’re horses,

so they don’t ask

why it is hot 

like never before

or who stands in the way of

doing something about it.

 

On the fence that

keeps them in their place

there will soon be signs

with the slogan

“Horses Strong,”

celebrating their “resilience”

and urging them to be proud

that they are somehow surviving

the unnatural heat.

Matt Witt is a writer and photographer from Talent, Oregon.

AIR QUALITY INDEX: 519

by Devon Balwit

SEATTLE, WA - SEPTEMBER 12: A man wearing a mask walks along Kerry Park as smoke from wildfires fills the air on September 12, 2020 in Seattle, Washington. According to the National Weather Service, the air quality in Seattle remained at "unhealthy" levels Saturday after a large smoke cloud from wildfires on the West Coast settled over the area. (Photo by Lindsey Wasson/Getty Images via Seattle PI)

Take a deep breath, the meditation app advises—
I breathe in. I only cough a little.
I can’t see my chickens although I know they’re there.
The redwood’s ghostly one house over.

I breathe in. I only cough a little.
The front door gaps. We keep meaning to fix it.
The redwood’s ghostly one house over.
My usual view is lost to fog.

The front door gaps. We keep meaning to fix it.
Tendrils seep in, the smell of burning.
My usual view is lost to fog.
It’s like London in 1952.

Tendrils seep in, the smell of burning.
I wear a headlamp when I walk the dog.
It’s like London in 1952.
Thousands died. I don’t want to.

I wear a headlamp when I walk the dog.
I pray the coming rain will make a difference.
Thousands died. I don’t want to.
I worry for the mailman, the UPS lady with her dog biscuits.

I pray the coming rain will make a difference.
So many acres are aflame. The firefighters can’t be everywhere.
I worry for the mailman, the UPS lady with her dog biscuits.
The hummingbirds’ wings whisk smoke.

Too many acres are aflame. The firefighters can’t be everywhere.
I can’t see my chickens although I know they’re there.
The hummingbirds’ wings whisk smoke.
Take a deep breath, the meditation app advises—

When not teaching, Devon Balwit chases chickens in the Pacific Northwest. She has two collections forthcoming: Rubbing Shoulders with the Greats [Seven Kitchens Press, 2020] and Dog-Walking in the Shadow of Pyongyang [Nixes Mate Books, 2020]. 

SUMMER'S HEAT

by F.I. Goldhaber

Pele. Image source: Dragons Faeries Elves & the Unseen

In the Pacific Northwest we've a
love-hate relationship with the sun.
While we treasure our short summer for
blue skies and joyous celebrations,
the natives sigh with relief when Fall's
first rain brings water to thirsty plants.

Though winter skies are ever dreary,
Spring's vibrant colors compensate for
months of precipitation. Here we
know the difference between drizzles
and sprinkles, cloudbursts and showers;
applaud brief sun break appearances.

But now summers last too long. Spring rains
refuse to fall. Winter's snow pack shrinks
every year, cutting skiing time short.
Fire season starts earlier and lasts
longer, kills more firefighters, burns more
acres, and destroys more homes each year.

Perhaps we should beg Lono to cross
the ocean and join Pele whose fire
rumbles under our feet, threatening
to burst from the peaks surrounding us,
and tear asunder the land on which
we build houses and cultivate food.

Maybe if we welcome the old gods,
eschew worshiping the trinity
of money, power, and oil,
we can avoid inclusion among
the species eliminated in
the planet's sixth wave of extinction.


As a reporter, editor, business writer, and marketing communications consultant, F.I. Goldhaber produced news stories, feature articles, essays, editorial columns, and reviews for newspapers, corporations, governments, and non-profits in five states. Now, her poems, short stories, novelettes, essays, and reviews appear in paper, electronic, and audio magazines, ezines, newspapers, calendars, and anthologies.  Her newest book of poetry Subversive Verse collects poems about corporate cruelty, gender grievances, supreme shambles, political perversion, and race relations.