Storm

Farmers dream potatoes uprooted by the wind.
In the city, families huddle away from windows,
remain calm at the heart. On the highway
a barricade collapses.

What I'm saying is, tonight nature takes
her course.

In the silence between lightning flash
and thunder, husbands grow infinitely tender.
Wives, understanding, begin composing notes
to milkmen, plumbers, saying,
"I will no longer need your attentions. . ."

Tonight any journey outdoors
is worth more than the sum of its parts.
For example driving to Donutland
the car skidded sideways
and now you are squeezing my thigh.

To keep you gentle I invent
lonely stories about the man
who patrols the power plant,
keeps the generators safe through storms.
I suggest that his lover died
on a night like this, and now
he must contend with rain.

Love, harsh weather. The wind could break
or build foundations.
There is music in the eaves, static on the radio.
Skies are predicted cloudy through tomorrow.
We hold hands, accept what light there is.
The glow that keeps us warm till morning.