Source Your Own Flares

There’s something like a wildfire
About all of this at once,
A wildfire in the mountains

Where you can see the orange
Patches on black slopes, fire lines
Wriggling down one side at night,

The scariest destruction,
Or at least the largest scale,
Far off, haze and reek of smoke,

But also these falling sparks
Now and again, threatening
To set you on fire yourself.

But that’s not right—what’s burning
Here didn’t fly in from there.