Santa Barbara is burning

The smoke unfurls in rich brown curtains, and the wind kicks up, sending dust in swirling patterns along the path.

Through almost unbearable heat, thick waves of refracting light seem to rise from the pavement. Sundowner gusts favor nothing but the eternal renewal of the burning season. Phoenix wings are consumed, like paper, as the flames mix with oxygen, releasing energy, transforming matter into nothing... and everything unknowable, intangible...

Rebirth will come, too. I think.

But when?