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poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Upon Return from the Hurricane Evacuation
“…and that the fury of the storms may pass away.”
-Missale Romanum, p. 1612
The temperature is 97
The hummingbird feeders must go up first
The humidity is 77
The feeder for the birds and squirrels is next
The temperature is 97
The outside cats are nowhere to be seen
The humidity is 77
But food and water are waiting for them too
The temperature is 97
The largest oak has lost much of itself
The humidity is 77
Red oak – more firewood for the winter
The temperature is 97
The electrical lines are down – how long?
The humidity is 77
But happiness - the house itself seems okay
The temperature is 97
Leaves shoal across the lawn and against the walls
The humidity is 77
Insulation from lost houses reef the fields
The temperature is 97
Debris, human and natural, debris
The humidity is 77
The world is covered with a litterfall
The temperature is 97
The generator coughs and barks and starts
The humidity is 77
We will sleep under electric fans tonight
The temperature is 97
Electric cords slither across the floors
The humidity is 77
The refrigerator takes turns with the coffee pot
The temperature is 97
The window unit that worked two weeks ago
The humidity is 77
Failed – everything is damp and hot and still
The temperature is 97
The damp and rot make sleep impossible
The humidity is 77
Dawn is but headaches, heat, dampness, and despair
The temperature is 97
Shifting fallen limbs from the driveway and lawn
The humidity is 77
And breathing heavily in the soggy heat
The temperature is 97
The road is blocked down at the other end
The humidity is 77
Strangers back up to my lane to turn around
The temperature is 97
We share information, rumors mostly
The humidity is 77
And wish each other well in this fallen time
The temperature is 97
The cats return, shyly, and one by one
The humidity is 77
From among green cover new to them
The temperature is 97
I sit in the shade and drink lots of water
The humidity is 77
And sweat and stink and try to catch my breath
The temperature is 97
An insolent hummingbird buzzes me
The Humidity is 77
He wears a green coat and a bright red tie
The temperature is 97
The bees are back at their freshwater pool
The humidity is 77
I poison the ants who are invading the house
The temperature is 97
Day after day, like The Ancient Mariner
The humidity is 77
Becalmed for days on a sunbeaten sea
But then: today, to everyone’s great joy
The electrics were restored by the rural co-op
And I stopped cleaning up the yard and house
To kill the generator and roll up cords
And to write to you to say that all is well
At our little house
At our little house
Because we have houses to live in, you and I,
And lots of people don’t, and that’s easy to forget
At the foot of the thermostat
Peace especially for the homeless and for exiles
And for you too
And for you too
2 comments:
Oh gosh, what an ordeal! Good to see you made it through, and your home is still intact. Great that you were prepared for the power outage. Still loads of work ahead by the sound of it. Take it easy Lawrence!
Thank you for your kind words!
Busy, busy, busy - today I mowed around the windfall, used the blower to clear the porches and patio, saw to taking care of the neighbors' generator, paid late bills, and on and on and on. Tomorrow I will begin reducing the windfall to firewood. Note to self: NEVER plant oak trees. NEVER plant pine trees. Apple trees are nice.
Hot, humid, miserable.
Gasp!
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