Love and Wildfire

At the begining of July, I went to Ouray to share poems for some wonderful folks at the historic Wright Opera House while the Gold Mountain wildfire raged just outside of town.

It was surreal, driving over Dallas Divide, seeing the foreboding plumes of fire over my beloved Cimarrons. The road between Ridgway and Ouray was dark with smoke. Ouray itself was clear and quiet and the fine staff at the Wright Opera House were struggling to keep attendance up at their ongoing film series celebrating Colorado’s 150th anniversary- so it was a gift to be there and bring love and levity. I read a few poems (one of which made a little fun of John Wayne, but you had to be there for that.)

This piece was written in 2024, but it feels like nothing has changed.
Thank you to the Wright and the good folks of Ouray for having me. Ouray was my first home in the San Juan Mountains and will always hold a piece of my heart!

Love and Wildfire
Joanna Yonder 8/24

Tonight the sun is setting red
while I am saving seeds.

Outside, fledgling bluebirds hum and chirp

and on the table is a basket of 

wild mushrooms singing also,
of the forest and of deep primordial stirrings.

The mustard sky

obscured in wildfire haze
and all the great apocalyptic
billows, marginal horizons

Still cannot keep these songs in futile silence:
Chirring crickets, calling elk,

and lastly the applause of aspen leaves

to close the night down.

In my hands, the seeds are lyrical 

and planning.
Future: mullein.
Future: borage.
Future: yarrow.
Future fields of flowers,

skies as clear and blue
as if it all came perfect round.

All the birds 

as evening waxes shady
flying, calling,

never falling silent.