I should be happier, I think,
to dodge a hurricane that only
skirted us, stole power for awhile
and rained a million branches in the yard.
I should be dancing, gleeful
that the sun is out again.
The weather people could explain
the dryness of the air, now cooler
than it's been in months
but who can tell me why
the storm just glanced our way
yet gut-punched neighbors
on the other coast. It couldn't be
because we're better over here.
My sins alone would merit harsher stripes
across our backs. Perhaps if I were out in space
I'd see the need for balance on the planet
and the only way was shifting sands and
rivers down the street.
We think we're so important, all the things
we buy, the things we do, the homes we build.
Everything can blow away and does,
when wind is motivated, focused,
dedicated to its path.
We're all exposed.
Bad things can happen. Often do.
Every silver lining has a cloud,
but then again, the wind's not angry
at the moment. No one's angry
at the moment.
Even where they've lost so much,
the water lapping against the walls
of flooded homes is a peaceful song.
(c) 2022. Ellen Gillette
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