My Tibetan prayer flags
Look like sad burnt rags
After this summer's heat
Not an Amen left to repeat
We laugh together at them
Until we turn and see
The distant hills still blazing
With a holocaust of trees
A mourning dove lands on the roof
And then immediately flies off
Will she be back when the flood returns
And we have not eaten for days
Is the wind itself the only prayer left
For us to say who drives the fire
And the flood to bless
Or curse us as it may
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