After midnight the storm’s breath
came fast and fierce between
the houses, snuffing
trees and patio furniture
like errant candles
it gripped the stars and stripes
like a sail, unmooring
our flagship with a single blow
so it drifted into the
depths of the garden
fences folded like a
house of cards, harkening
to the maelstrom’s beguiling whistle
But you would never know
it now – if it wasn’t for
the debris, chaotic markers
of weather’s late night
party, litter from the
cold front’s powerful parade –
you’d never know the
remnant is this blue sky
and golden sunlight
where the trees toss in
their autumn splendor
like proud ladies just
back from the salon
More on breath, this time from the whopper thunderstorm we had the other night! Thank you for reading!
The Poetry Patio 