THE GRAY

BY TODD BLOCK FOR EVERYONE AND EVERYPLACE AFFECTED BY THE FIRE

THE GRAY THAT YOU SEE, BLANKETING OUR SKY, IS NOT OUR MORNING SEA FOG, IT’S NOT WET IT’S DRY.

ANIMALS FLEE THE FOREST, AND BIRDS FORCED TO FLY, GRAYS SOURCE NOT DISCRIMINATE, SOME MAY LIVE, SOME MAY DIE.

IT SEEPS IN YOUR SKIN, BURNS YOUR THROAT, WATERS YOUR EYE, BENEATH THE GRAY BLANKET, NORMALCY AWRY.

AS THE FIRE LEAVES, WE SMILE, HUG, WAVE IT GOODBYE. STILL AS STRONG AS EVER (VENTURA), EVEN WHEN WE CRY.

OUT OF THE ASHES, A NEW FOREST AND HOMES WILL ARISE, OUR NEW FOUND STRENGTH AND UNITY, IS REALLY OUR NEW PRIZE.

Breeze: We goofed and had this poem in our last issue with the wrong title and the wrong author. Can we blame it on the fire distracting us?

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