Nathaniel “Bob” Winters continues his impression of the October firestorm in the Napa Valley and Santa Rosa. ~A.M.
Charcoal By Nathaniel R. Winters
10/25/17 My wife Colleen and I came back home from my Parkinson’s disease doctor appointment at the S.F. VA Hospital by going north to Santa Rosa, trying to avoid the worst of rush hour traffic. From Santa Rosa we drove over the ridge to the Napa Valley. Our GPS assured us the road was open after the fire. What we did not know there was a 6pm curfew to keep looters away and to save any local victims from dangers after dark. We arrived at 6:15 and begged the National Guardsmen to save us an extra two hour trip. They relented and we scooted over the pass, driving through neighborhoods of total destruction. What we saw was something out of a war zone, just charcoal and fireplaces. We had seen pictures in the paper and video on TV, but encountering these gates of hell in person was overwhelming. So many left homeless, and so much lost.
We were the only car on the curvy mountain-pass road borerding the hit and miss decimation. One ridge was burned while the trees of another stood with leaves or needles of green; a house here, charcoal there.
As we swichbacked down to the little damaged upper Napa Valley, I gave another silent thank you to the firefighters.

SFGate: Carlos Avila Gonzalez (The Chronicle)

Nathaniel Robert Winters
When Will We Ever Learn?
Novelist Nathaniel Robert Winters shares a poem today. Find his work at Amazon.
Thanks to the Gallerii
Custer Died For Our Sins
Western train throws a loud whistle
but bison won’t be moved
car screeches to a whiplash halt
Buffalo hunters emerge
bringing down great beasts
too many to count
a hole appears
showing the endless tracks beyond
Locomotive belches black cloud
starts slowly, picking up speed
white way west
Lakota Nation weeps
One hundred fifty years later
it is not tracks that scar Dakota land
but a pipeline
oil way south
Lakota Nation still weeps
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Tagged as Nathaniel Robert Winters, Poetry, Standing Rock