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Poem

This week we had a warning, news, images, speculation

A storm will come to us from the west, strong, hard, angry

And so we waited, breath held, how strong, damaging? Fearful maybe

The sky foreboding, clouds fast and deep dark blue and grey

Then it starts, rain, trees begin to shake, branches waving, then falling

Watching geese trying to land in a field, with flailing wings eventually coming to ungraceful rest

The wind gathers strength, howling, coupled with dusk it magnifies effect

Surrounds us, envelopes us, gathering speed, louder as our local world is buffeted
 
Shaken house, listening to banging shutters, was that a branch on the roof?

Unending noise, as we lay in bed warm protected, yet feelings of a vulnerable life

We cannot control this power of nature, only trust that we are safe

Awed by the might of this storm as it holds sway over us

Hour after hour it rages, plays havoc with the land, scouring all before it

Somehow, we sleep, the tempest outside our window
Until we wake, to blue skies, sun, all revealed to us, the evidence of the night

Exposed in the light of day, remains of trees cleaned of dead wood coat the ground

Clouds still scudding, fast as a jet across the sky and then as our world darkens 

It begins once more, a return of the wind, the rain, the roar brief, and then still

We must be in the eye of the storm, waiting for the next instalment 

Of the stormy weather.

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