The sky filled with smoke more than ever before yesterday.
Leaving not a smidge of blue sky anywhere
Tendrils of smoke wafted around our heads, in our eyes, and settled upon our skin
The whole sky had a grey sheen to it
The air smelled of forests burning,
the taste of wood ash on our tongues
the smoke lay heavy although smoke itself is not heavy
It might as well be
It comes in such a volume it weights on all lungs — human, animal, bugs, and plants
That breathing is a stress upon itself.
Gradually the sun turned the sky to pink and the smoke turned the sun red
As the western side of the United States continues to burn.
With sadness your friend on a western Colorado farm,