our labor day trip to the vineyard

collapsed

heat and drought

and fire made it untenable

our last trip was in july

since then the rain has stopped

the heat risen, and no one is in the mood

for leisurely evenings

on the patio with wine and conversation and smoke

is this our new reality, rhetorical question, it is

and i'm thinking

how not to make this poem political

meanwhile, this can't be good for colin's grandfather's health

nor mine, nor yours, nor anyone's