By some estimates, Altadena lost more than half of its tree canopy in the wake of the Eaton Fire.
— LAist, Sept. 21, 2025

The bears are repopulating
the gleaming
backyard trees that survived the fire
and then survived the human instinct to clean, clear out.
The oak blackened on one side,
            hospice on the other.

The privacy hedge is gone, the hundred year saguaro
that decorated the corner, and its friend
the vintage Ford truck.

I miss the moments inside of disaster
            when bargaining was possible. When we didn’t know

how much nature was taking back. The official charges
for our interference. Proven guilty.

Maybe we were never meant to live here, we say,
            tracking the scat of a mountain lion

in the empty garden beds. The black isn’t ash, by the way,
it’s potting soil.

            Remember not to turn your back

to the animal who owns this. Remember to thank your host
for the privilege of our visit.

When we return to our apartment
the cement slab outside
the wall AC unit is coated with moss.

Green tries to cover everything, it tries to hold us tighter.
Little streaks of sky and sunlight:

where the tree canopy converges
where the deodars reach their arms out to each other

in spite of everything.