“Storms”
Andrea Hollender Budy
After her tired dogs
retreat, the mangrove keys
settle back to sleep. Though thunder
shakes the palms,
it's from a distance so harmless
a bird looks up
only occasionally, his feet stuck
in the lazy water.
My storms are
wild cats screaming from the trees,
the winds
silent at first, then stiff, vicious,
taking the roofs with them.
My trees won't calm themselves
nor birds betray
their hidden places. Here, rain is never
truly welcome. Even when weeds
grow dry as chalk and the dog
won't leave the air-conditioned room,
I'd rather have the dust.
Think of me sleeping some night
in a tent along the river, lulled at first
by those early drops.
When all at once the ground
becomes a river, too, think of me
lucky to get out. This time
think of me lucky.
Budy, Andrea Hollander. “Storms.” LitFinder. Galenet. Starr's Mill Media Center, Fayetteville, Georgia. 25/4/2007. <http://trails.galegroup.com>