Wildfire Birthday

Wildfires wrapped me in their hazy cocoon yesterday.
Muffled all sounds and thoughts like a cold,
Like the eerie quiet of underwater. Orange sun transformed my living room into a glass of Tang. 

A parliament of eagles vied for salmon guts on the beach, chasing off the ravens over daisies and seaweed. Quarreling ravens forced out a few of their own in a screaming cacophony. Five scouts set off in precise fighter jet formation. Peace granted again.

My daughter returned from the beach smelling like wild mint. “I saw a moving rock!” she said. “A moving rock – what is she talking about?” The beach remained frozen in time.

Suddenly a rock became a porcupine and hobbled along the water’s edge.
Dinner fit for a mermaid of garlic shrimp and beach asparagus transported me back to Costa Rica, if just for a moment.

Out in front, a mama orca taught her two babies to hunt while Daddy long-fin kept watch in the distance. 

At 9:45 P.M., the wildfire sun glowed hot pink above the horizon, marking June’s finale in a brilliant exclamation point.

Photo: Kerry Howard

Summer Koester is an award-winning writer and an educator, artivist, and culture disruptor in Lingít Aaní, "Land of Tides," a.k.a. Juneau, Alaska. Her words have appeared in New York Times, The Sun, McSweeney's Internet Tendency, Huffington Post, Insider Magazine, The Independent, and various buses around Juneau.

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