To no longer see sky for smoke
blown from wildfires over the mountains and far away.
               To no longer think of my first
roommate without picturing the go bag she packed last week.
              Another bag for a
half-done art project and one for her dog.
              To no longer think of summer
without heroics and death and extra helpers flown in.
              They circle, circle. They try, try.
To no longer be able to say this too shall pass.