Fire. Fire. Fire.

Swept up in an undertow.

Radiative heat.

Drowned by its oppression.

The desert has been unkind upon reentry.

Bedridden days have returned.

Sickness for an elderly dog.

Here, I suffer a resigned acceptance.

Consumed by the immediacy of this landscape.

The place that once soothed me with its stillness is lighting fires of catharsis.

Rocky reconnections.

Meltdowns.

Solar power at the homestead is over heating.

The shipping container storage reached 128º yesterday.

The house we are staying in is rather noisy.

Alarms are sounding off.

Carbon monoxide.

Fire.

Radio.

All false, yet consecutive and confined.

Fire ants have found their way into the kitchen
with no clear passage to control.

A local home caught fire.

Three car fires on HWY 62.

Fire. Fire. Fire.

B.Penouilh, Faulting Landscape, watercolor on paper, 2022