No Plan B
By Ruth Powell | she/her/hers | Prince George, British Columbia, Canada
It’s quiet here. No visitors from out of country with the third wave of the pandemic just over and the fourth beginning to swell. The lake is calm and even the children’s voices seem subdued. There’s smoke in the air, but not so thick. Only the calling loons break the silence. Our paddles slice the glass surface of the water with barely a sound.
black bear
glimpsed through smoke
ash on the lake
No internet here, and no cell coverage. That’s what we come for.
The smoke thickens and our eyes begin to burn. A sense of unease floats around us. We notice the rumbling of semis, a low thrum that wasn’t there an hour ago. Now a counterpoint, the drone of helicopters. Water-bombers.
At the dock we learn that the main highway is closed, going north and south. All traffic re-routed across the two-lane road above this lake resort. Evacuation orders for nearby communities.
livestock set free
truck loaded up
forty years gone
Shaken, we pack up, fill our water bottles and join the line of vehicles on the move towards the alternate route.
no plan b
a flock of birds
drops from the sky
This piece has been published as part of the collection, Clouds in Paper.
Cover Image by Luc Tribolet via Unsplash
