The kitchen radio’s whineintones catastrophe—wildfire, species loss—all breakfast long. While Ioffer a troubled gracefor oatmeal, toast, and juice,it dribbles misery down. The local news, too,

The backyard maplesspeak in fire-tongues,filling the windowswith gold light as though they were banksof candles, burningbefore great shrines,these days of the dead, in vigil and