Last night
the winds arrived.
Gusts
of 75 miles per hour.

My dog and I
huddled in the basement
shivering
like two squirrels
in a nest.

Today
on my walk
I see shingles
scattered across the road.

Do they know
so many are missing?

I look up.
Half my neighbor’s roof
is gone.

Simply gone.

Our golf course
was hit hard.
A large ancient pine
lies on its side
tumbled in the war.
Its torn roots
cruelly exposed
and drying
in the sun.

The sound
of chainsaws
fills the air.

Workers are everywhere.

I kiss the leaves
of my basswood and silver maple
giving them thanks
for their tenacity
in the face
of such anger.

This morning
presents itself
like an idyllic summer day:
blue sky
gentle breeze
a butterfly
lightly lands
upon my blooming lily.

The day
is so innocent
so pure
as if no violence
came down
the night before.

All those feelings
all those emotions
tore through town
bent
on destruction.

How can we not see
that we too
are an expression
of nature
of all things
both
beautiful
and
indifferent?