Blow

Last night great wind rose and sent rain drumming walls and windows, and made a roar of all the trees. It was as though the hidden sky had become a beach where an endless wave crashed, and all the night filled with spindrift. If any birds were about, I could not hear them for the storm's noise.

The weak stretch of fence came down again, too.

Afternoon brought relative stillness, and though the rain continued, small brown birds did appear and forage across the wet lawn. What they found there to eat I don't know, and wouldn't have asked even if I could speak the language of birds.

I had pizza.

Tonight the rain has softened, and the air is still again. Though I find the placid atmosphere pleasant, still I miss the roaring and the splattering. A storm is a wonderful thing when no harm's done. The fence? I'll prop it back up easily enough. Tonight I'll leave it down. Perhaps deer will come in the yard and graze.

( Sunday Verse )