poetry | promptly written
Fierce Whirlwind
Power outage from a wind storm
twenty hours you raged
loud and boisterous
making sleep
thoughts
deeds impossible
in the darkness created
by snapped lines
poles ripped asunder
a whirlwind
warm air circulating
on a December day
and we, one of three
in a row of users
are always the last
to be restored
©2021 Lori Carlson. All Rights Reserved.
Yesterday. Late afternoon. The wind picked up at a phenomenal speed. No clouds in the sky meant no tornadoes through this tornado alley. Didn’t diminish the destruction. Trees down. Power poles twisted. Lines ripped away. Trashcans danced down streets like leaves. A cruel warm wind blew on this mid-month day. What was that about? No power. No need for heat. No work. Just endless hours of silence except for the constant whoosh of wind rattling windows. And even hours after the winds calmed, power remained elusive. Sleep overtook me and upon waking, all had been restored.
