Not to be Alarmist

Not to be Alarmist
But it's 3AM and the hills are burning, the radios are blaring, repeating, pleading, the TV is on fire with charred homes and teary 11 year olds mumbling about drum sets and favorite sneakers melted into the foundation.
Not to be Alarmist
But it's early and I've been woken up to stare at flames licking mountains miles and miles (I know I'm safe I know I'm safe) away.
Not to be Alarmist
But I'm going through the drawers in the rooms I grew up in, sorting, picking through memories to save or forget. Does the blue lined paper note from Charles in 6th grade (will you go out with me? Check yes or no) warrant saving? Pictures, journals, bits and pieces of childhood stuffed into a roller bag.
Not to be Alarmist
But when it's jumping and twisting and not cooperating with the fire crews and CNN is saying we are burning to the ocean and my bag lay at the front door ready to evacuate,
It's hard not to be.