In the musty morning aftermath,
When the wind howled liked angry beasts,
trees flogged and bending under the lashes,
Some uprooted and laid to rest like a fallen boxer,
Their limbs torn and tossed about in random disarray,
as if in a Colosseum of lions.

It’s the utter stillness that strikes me as so very strange.
Birds silent and absent from my feeders, always full of their flitting and flighting off overhanging branches.
It’s as if we are in the eye of the storm itself.
Yet it has surely moved on,
returned to its own home. Resting for the next attack.

Maybe the birds are fearful after last night.
Maybe they are waiting to be sure it is truly safe.
Can’t blame them really.
I sat in my safe house watching through my windows,
While they huddled, best they could, in madly, swaying, limbs…
Their tiny claws hanging on for dear life!!
And the rabbits…
were they huddled on the ground watching limbs and branches fall from above like spears?

We are never properly prepared for these moments of violence.
When the heavens open like a broken levee,
And exploding waterfalls collapse upon the earth.

A reminder of the frailness of life.
The moment to moment chance of danger.

Some we can see coming,
some we cannot.
So we listen for the warning bells,
And watch the weatherman’s attempt to warn us and stay vigilant.

It’s all we can do, us humans.
Sometimes we are simply at the mercy of something bigger than ourselves.

Humbled, we move into the day with renewed reverence.

KKurtz 9/12/19