February: Day Eighteen

Last night the wind roared

like the ocean

and we lost power and I feared

for the house to go cold

and pipes to freeze and

all manner of catastrophes to follow,

and prayed for the wind to die down, while

memories of a different storm welled up,

one that pounded for hours and

nearly took our roof,

and anxious thoughts swirled and

made my heart catch on every beat

as I repeated please stop, please stop,

but the house was solid against the wind 

and we huddled beneath extra blankets 

for warmth and then, suddenly,

the light came on and, finally, I slept.

It's morning now and the sun 

is shining and the wind still

roaring but not as threatening 

as in the dark of night,

and a squirrel just scampered

through the front yard

with a mouthful of oak leaves 

and the birds are at the feeder

as if nothing has happened at all