Today’s the last day of National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo).
Rhythmic pulses over clattering cups
just a few days after another storm.
We were lucky only show erupted
not the sky wholely plucking fragile warmth
as children who kick at dandelions
(and adults, too), but they send tomorrow
loosed expectant from supportive siphons
not scattered scared from grasps all too hollow.
Our steadfast world inures itself to risk,
of course we always roll with any punch.
And then the world’s leisurely pace grows brisk.
I have heard that roar physically but once.
Somewhere a tortoise pushed itself upright,
found grass, and noticed the sun again bright.
Luckily, the storms became hot air and beautiful light in East Point. Luckily, we don’t yet personally know of casualties near our in-laws or elsewhere. I always have wondered how people move on. I feel lucky I’ve never had to find out. The scenes being relayed from Tuscaloosa are frightening.
Somewhat inspired by P. F. Anderson’s Erosion series, hence fitting Not Without Poetry’s prompt. Erosion brings to mind storms, tempests, and utterly moronic land & shoreline management. She also touches on personal reactions and ongoing storms in the world with their personal impacts. And writes neat narrative sonnets.
Oddly enough, the events fit Poetic Aside’s “after leaving here” prompt. We drove from Southwest Virginia to East Point before the storms hit. We rushed, assuming they’d not bother the mountains but would slam our home. As far as I know, everyone was surprised by the weather’s turn. We really understand so little about our world.
I’ve been horrible about not reading other peoples’ works this year. Finding my own time while still on a computer is growing more difficult. So I’m sure there are many other great things written this month.