Well your eyes have a mist from the smoke of a distant fire
Remember that song? Sanford-Townsend Band, 1977. That was a good year. I turned 16, and fell to rumbling around town in a 67 Mercury. The air was sweet.
Today the smoke of the Day Fire has arrived again over Carpinteria. It’s growing darker, and the air is oppressive. I’ve set up fans in the house to keep the air moving; I’ll have to close up the place soon, when the ash begins to fall. If you’re in Santa Barbara, it’s headed your way.
This sucks.
Or maybe it blows.
Metaphor 