One Single Impression: Wind

For ninety minutes in June

Wind tore off skin
Exposed and shredded
Muscle
And left corpses
Draped over power lines
In unwilling bows
That suggested

Extreme humiliation

Or cast across laneways
And lawns
To be discovered and removed
By some bystander or passerby
Who dared to.

So it went in a vortex
Of black clouds and rain and
Green tornadic light
And thunderous, chilling
Cracks that,

As my dad would say,

Would make a believer out of you.

Except, of course, that this was the wind,
Air moving in circles at a furious pace

Except, of course,
That there was no fury.
There was no slaughter, no rape, no humiliation.

This was simply wind
Taking down magnificent trees

Because it was wind
Because the trees were there.

I was there.  I watched.
I said, and I say, fury.
Strangely.

Click here for images and the back story.

One Single Impression