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storm

Weathering

Weathering

 

Storms, fire

Firestorms

 

That’s in California

 

Floods, tornadoes

Water-sheets

And other means

Of rain to strike

At us

 

Texas and in Florida

Where sand is

Bagged by convict

Volunteers—on

North through

Eastern USA

 

River-rise in Paris

Art treasures

Moved toward

More-protected

Ground

 

Certain seasons

Start all over (as

In again and

Everywhere)

 

In nature’s timing

And all storms’

Discretion

 

Selfishly, I am

Well above brick

Walkways and

Macadam streets

 

I have electric

In safe measure—

Mostly, though

Not always:

A tree smashed

Into the house

Not so long ago

 

A favorite book,

The Mighty Acts

Of God, a

Faithful book

 

Nature is God’s,

And the Christian

Claim is God is

Love

 

So what is the

Love here?  It

Id that God loves

Us and leaves

Us the means—even

In, and as, a fallen

World

 

Our part to start

Redress is to resolve

To do so

 

That’s it: resolve

 

(The rest follows)

 

Midst

Midst

There is no storm just now;
Yet I am between two poles
And, like the compass magnet,
Cannot find a true direction

In the middle and cut off, I
Drift alone—the sun is bright
Though I feel no thirst, no
Longer any hunger, either

I am alone—I don’t know
What happened to the crew—
No storm now and yet I feel
I am only between one

Tempest and another, that
One will come to overturn my
My unsteady craft; so how
Does the Latino saying go?

Your sea is so great, and my
Boat is so small—for the time,
And but for swelling waves,
There is no current bearing

Me away: yet I believe I am
In the midst of all, awaiting
What happens, what catches—
Compelling, never planned

Claustrophobe

Claustrophobe

Am I trapped on
the second floor?
My town for now
has the greater
accumulation,

And I realize this
is maybe too much.
I look out:

all I see are shapes
of indistinction;
I can’t even see
that well for
vapor pushing
up against my
window, making
visual barriers
in condensation.

The storm is Jonas;
that’s fine. If you
can escape the
hunt of God by

living for days in
a great fish—before
being retrieved by
hunter’s hand (let’s
say)—then I not
hunted by the
divine with the
exception to be
loved,

then I can weather
this—well, you
know–weather.

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