The Storm

I stand here in the semi darkness. Power went out about an hour ago. No surprise given the angry wind that grips and shakes the house. The only sound, the torrential rain. The incessant rain that assaults all that it encounters. Walls of water, beating down as if there was no sky. I gaze out, watching the trees, bowing to their master. Hoping they won't break under it's will. Small branches litter the landscape, scurrying about in hapless pursuit of unknown destinations. Soon will come the floods, small rivers flowing where there were none before. Aggressively seeking the paths of least resistance, challenging all in their wake. Their strength and volume will crescendo, wreaking havoc as they pursue new conquests, and, like thieves, seizing everything that they can carry. In the distance, the angry surf claws at the shoreline, clutching desperately to the rocky wall. Retreating but for a minute, only to return and try to climb it once again. Soon, the oceans cycle will reach high tide, adding power to it's frothy arsenal. Bolstering it's quest to gain the high ground, intent on conquering my home. A kerosene lamp in the kitchen emits a smoky glow. Shadows retreat to the corners, as if intent on hiding from the storm. The weather radio crackles on the counter, describing what I already know, adding only to my sense of isolation. When it's over, I'll check on the neighbors. We all know that help lives right next door. We'll get together and fix what needs fixin, and support each other through heart and hand. I grab the pot from atop the wood stove and pore myself a cup of strong black coffee, while Mother nature reminds me who's in charge. It could be days before we're back to normal. In the meantime, we'll make due with what we have. No need fretting over what I can't change. Just part of life up here in the woods.