Wind bends branches like women waving
handkerchiefs, farewelling loved ones off to war.
Sheltered in a cozy cocoon behind a window,
I’m mesmerised by the storm.
Light taps, harden on double glazed glass, as
the long descending driveway removes flooding,
quick as an overzealous waitress whipping away
unfinished plates, eager to get home.
Summer avocados fall, emerald, green, stolen
miniatures waiting to brown like a sunbather
drizzled in oil, crushed by a fork on top of fresh
artisan dough, ripped away.
Fine lacquer mist becomes a torrent; I luxuriate
in the comfort of an onlooker, as wild weather
rocks vegetable boxes, a mosh pit where only
some will survive the remains of the hurricane.
Contentment of self-satisfaction melts away,
as those caught in the eye of the storm are
remembered, battling elements as nature wreaks
havoc, sweeping away a lifetime, as I enjoy a
day at home.
First published in The Dawntreader (59) 2022 (UK).