Storm – Day 14

If you don’t mind, could we just breathe
close together for a minute?
Our little corner, now well rinsed,
steam drying, shiny, newly green.
New like limes, but weary, drooping,
glad to be over and still attached.
These who do not know yet,
the fury of winds lashing, thrashing,
raging late summer gale,
rip trees and roar downtown. Some,
torn away to land among
brittle fellows in the grass,
recall the miles gusted,
sigh for closeness, breathe at last.


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