wind-whipped branches

wind-whipped branches writhe
nestling birds cling for dear life
nature on rampage

* * * * *

It’s 3:00 am

I’m alone in the house

staring out the window

at furies unleashed

Strobe lightning blinds my eyes

Demon-possessed winds

howl through spruces, oaks, hemlocks

Towering branches whip the air in vain

against a fury of lightning strikes

Leafy twigs and debris careen

through the air to the ground

only to be sucked up for yet

another uncharted trip

through turbulent air

It’s 3:30 am

I dream I’m a nestling

tossed to and fro in the sea

clinging to tightly plaited

bits and pieces of this and that

twigs, string, fur, paper, dead grass

debris, trash, castaways

things of no consequence

barely missed or noticed

useless discards painstakingly woven

by unseen hands into works of art

rendered sturdy by primal knowledge

fragile bits of stuff held together

by intricate bonds of care and duty

invisible to mere mortals

such as I

* * *

Telling the Truth