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Withstanding the Storm

WIND, like a crazed spirit,

Grapples through the trees

Stirring the leaves in a frenzied

Swirling madness and trailing them

In it's endless wake.

 

We heard it coming,

From the other side of the small woods,

Where it crashed into the trees

After its long uncluttered run

Over the long open fields beyond.

 

In the woods, it went crazy.

Its purposeful blowing

Diverted into a legion of twisting

Separate fierce gusts,

Entwining the branches invisibly,

Hissing like lunatic snakes.

 

We heard it coming

And knew the consequence

Of staying out in the open too long

In spite of the welcome coolness

Preceding its veiled velocity.

 

Besides the twigs and leaves

And dust that it threw up.

There was the skyfire behind it.

The clouds,

Black bellied and belching,

Boiling and churning insanely,

Turned the bright spaces

Between the clacking trees

Incredible dark, eclipsing day.

 

Inside the house, inside ourselves,

Our hearts beat fast

As the house groaned and wracked

Against the howling

And we waited,

To see if we would survive again,

Or this time, become ourselves, wind.