Blow Down

by Kevin T. McEneaney

The hurricane came through and blew trees down

which fell like twigs over lawns and power lines,

rural roads, main roads, and major highways.

Odd that the fierce winds excelled the rain.

Hardly anyone in the county had power.

We traveled a century back in time:

trudging to creek to fill up the bucket

for flushing toilet and quick-washing hands.

Dining by candlelight, a pleasant treat.

The neighbors’ generators howled all night.

In aftermath hush, there were few insects.

Music of chain saws replaced tv rant.

During this time, I excelled at sleeping,

feeling small obligations at waking.

Downed sycamore
Close Menu