Open the door in the hours before dawn.

The trills drift into the kitchen like smoke.

They are smoke, each bird aflame. We do not see this.

Step outside to check the sky.

The shadows wash across the moon like smoke.

They are smoke, each cloud a signal. We do not see this.

Go about the morning business.

Begin to cough but cast this on other causes.

All is enkindled. The world is burning.

There are no distant fires.

I do not disdain your grocery store oolong

Served in a chipped thrift store cup.

The love with which it is offered

Transforms this into the rarest of teas,

Steeped with considerate care, warmed by attentive kindness,

sweetened with local honey and shared stories.

Never disparage such a gift, nor apologize to serve it.

I will sit at your old farmhouse table and savor every sip,

Grateful indeed for this time and place

And the opportunity to rest for a bit and breathe the fresh air,

Thankful always for your friendship.

Dazedly we emerged from our houses,

Walking with shaky steps to gaze at the unfamiliar sun.

Did you survive the rain? We asked each other,

And most nodded, though we surreptitiously found ourselves

Checking first our own limbs and then those of our neighbors.

When we looked hesitantly into others’ eyes,

We found many awash with tears and knew

That the rain still poured in their thoughts and thus filled them to overflowing.

We surrounded these in sorrow, wanting to hold them close

But did not touch them, lest the water find its way to us.

Meanwhile in a nearby village that was also across the world,

The inhabitants were likewise appearing from their refuges,

Venturing with heavy gait outside to view the strange clouds.

Did you survive the fires? They asked each other,

And most nodded, though they too were glancing secretly

At their own bodies first then doing the same for their neighbors.

When they briefly peered into others’ faces,

They discovered many scorched with rage and knew

That the blaze still burned in their hearts and thus consumed them without remorse.

They gathered round these in fear, really wanting to flee

But instead hugging them tightly to smother their flames, thus preventing them from spreading.

Rain. Fire. When you step beyond your door, consider them when you meet another.