Fast Poem 23: An Old Man Contemplates Revolution

Sequential gusts smash the porch

like desperate, invisible soldiers breaking against bulwarks

with persistent, insufficient shoulders of air.

Between surging assaults,

sudden stillness promises quiet peace,

then ragged treetop whispers

escalate to window rattling howl

and beyond reason to mindless roar.

Determined, unseen waves break again against walls

with door slamming boom.

Walls hold.

Banshee whistles disappointment

along resisting eaves.

Should winds continue, as stories say rains once did,

40 days and 40 nights without rest,

survivors, sleep deprived

by noise and barometric instability,

will have gone mad

The cat pays small attention,

though she seems reluctant to de-lap,

glass needle claws slightly hook, like burs of dock,

into worn folds of this threadbare robe.

Tomorrow and the next day,

downed branches dragged

and blown leaves raked to curbside pickup,

cat and lap shall again embrace to dream

of tall prairie, errant mice, sunlit shadows

and gentler, more obedient skies.

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