Heat Dome

half idaho's ablaze; its filth's spewed wide;
particulates too small to settle down
from Puget Sound to Continent's Divide
paint skies like Mordor's many shades of brown.
All outdoor sports events must be deferred;
asthmatics struggle for their every breath.
A year of pulmonary wear's incurred
for every week we're casting dice with Death.
Each photon intercepted overhead
destroys the lapse-rate soaring pilots love.
Black-body shifted down to bleary red
the atmosphere's still warmed, but from above.
Grim legacy from when the West was cool/\
presents a terrifying pool of fuel.