Hurricane Dorian Poem

Hurricane Dorian Poem

Rain slaps the windows

while the wind bullies tree branches

pushing them around until they snap.

Grey skies remain, seemingly immoveable, 

almost egging on the wind 

to berate our windows,

our sense of control, our calm.

For the sky knows that we see how the wind treats us,

how the wind treats the trees.

But it doesn't change,

and it knows we are stuck.

Are you testing us, Hurricane?

Do you want us to know our place?

Or are you a frustrated ball of energy,

playing in the only way you know how?

Do you see us in our homes, battening down the hatches?

Or do you see nothing,

but room for your legs to stretch and roam?