i don't know if the last few of tom's photos actually depict the reservoir, or not. but, regardless, they remind me of it. we drove along pacheco pass, late summer exhausted and buffeted by winds, watching the hills undulate and remarking on the sharp line left by grassfire.

past the reservoir
trees have grown
and died
far below the edge
that marked high water.
all around
angry black
blankness,
firebruised. i can see it,
thick flames
reflected in the faltering water,
elemental rivalry
scarring the soft pelt
of the hills.
i can see
how it swelled,
leaping across
tractordriven lines,
gobbling up the
hillside,
asking for more.