Adelaide B. Shaw

Hurricane Sandy

The wind has many descriptions: balmy, light, strong, gusty, gale, hurricane. In 24 hours we have them all. It starts slowly and intermittently. A gust now. A breeze later. Throughout the day it gains in strength, swooshing through the pines, the maples, the oaks, the alder, the ash, snapping off branches, stripping them of their remaining leaves. It pushes them into piles, plays games spiraling them up and down, whirling, swirling. Being fickle it creates two piles from one, then back to one again. It whips around the house finding open spaces between windows and frames. It slips in under the doors. It howls in anger; it moans in sorrow; it screams in frustration. And still it comes, the wind. And with it comes rain. Spitting, slanting, lashing. Hour after hour.

stillness at noon
surveying the grounds
we speak softly