Irene

Mommy woke me up in the middle of the night

terrified the roof might blow away and carry us into the sea

The wind hit everything hard, punching the guts out

slapping and screaming a high pitched note

We took our pillows down the stairs and hid away

watching the ceiling for signs of trauma

and the power was out, everything looked blacker

outside was a shimmering dancer

The whole house shook with the world

We held tight to our pillows, clung to what we could

And soon the storm seemed rhythmic and soothing

and we fell into a deep and calming sleep

In the morning, the sky was a vibrant blue

and though the wind was still angry

it blew only hard enough to shake branches, not roots

But signs of the night before were clear and saddening

The water grew dark  and bashed the shore

in white foaming waves

and the fallen trees looked as if they were born there

born upon the ground, laying over the garden

We called the storm by name

and we did not curse her, it was too soon for that

so we begged her to go far away and she answered in daytime lightning

and far off thunder

She swept away, giddy with our crying

taking mental pictures of her power and her quality

and we took in her destruction and felt cold

felt as if we wanted her to come home

So we sang her a song of pity and begging and got to work on the cleansing of the land

and prayed for the people whom she would take next

that their rooves would stay on, and their trees rooted

and that they to would see her absract beauty