AUTUMN STORM

I've always thought this one comes off best when imagined read aloud in Garrison Keillor's  voice

The earth does what it does
and always has--

Storm bellowing,
Flood rushing,
And the reeds bend;
Trees sway and sometimes
go roots up;
The waters wild
sweep the land
forgetting former banks
erasing dams
the diligent beaver built.

_____________________


The tempest swoops in
off the ocean
where it trained,
charging like a heavyweight
out of his corner,
Knocks
the ancient weather vane a-tizzy,
sets the ponies running in the wind;
Slaps
the last of autumn's fire
off the swaying trees--
Leaves and later
weather vane as well
fly on the wind,
ponies whipped up
as wild, as rambunctious
as the lashing rains.

Squirrels
in tree-top nests disrupted
learn suddenly to fly
and small birds hide
as best they can
and the cats
of roaming disposition 
come inside
where we, close-huddled
by the fireplace,
hope that the wood 
already in the house
will be enough;
candle lanterns ready,
and flashlights
close to hand, 
with extra batteries...

The kids are energised,taking it in turns,cranking on the newold fangled swamp-radiothat never needs a battery replaced,and praying for a sudden coldand maybe feet of snow,and make extravagant plans...

Even when the blast
exhausts itself
to fitful gusts
and wanders off,
the rain drums on,
a flat percussive
shingle-drenching
crevice-seeking
drumming over-head...

The water fills
the hollows of the land
and saturates the soil,
drives out small rodents
from their earth;
The dog is whining
that, in fact,
he'd rather not go out
today
but must, he must,
oh dear, he really must,
and now, yes NOW!
and not alone...

And the water buckets down:
drumming, drumming,
finally lulling
the last of us to sleep,
that flashlight by the bed...

The dawn comes
luminous and calm--
as if the weather
never had a single
brutal thought,
never blustered,
never raged,
never came in reeling
like a drunk,
never loosed the ponies
nor beat the land to
sodden helplessness...

The day comes on
gently, cheerful,
a little apologetic
for the night-time's fuss,
and because the light's
today a little harsher
through trees stripped and stark
their columns etched and dark,
still gleaming with the wet...

Birds sing,
Squirrels scold,
Cats consider going out,
The dog is bouncing at the door!

The kids are disappointed
not really getting
what disaster is...

And someone must go out
and find the weather vane
then climb up on the misty roof
and put it back again
onto its naked pole.

copyright 2007  by  CL Redding