Wildfire lessons

Air thick with smoke and dust is hard to breathe. Lungs become air filters, clogged with particles. Even by the waves the best one can do is not sing right now, not take deep cleansing breaths. Sometimes I just put my cloth mask on, even when nobody’s around, and take hopeful news from the sparrow I call Chip. Come hell or high smoke levels Chip still perches on the roof and bends down to inspect the top of the railing where he likes to pick at seeds. He disregards the bird feeder. If the railing is empty he reminds me with a polite cheep, a friendly head cock, a gentleman’s reminder: Ahem, forgetting something? Looking forward to seeing you out here with food, he says.