Strong winds took charge
as we fastened the final barn
and leaned into the blast
waiting with the canning jars
praying the cellar doors would last.
Memories as a boy holding on to dad.
Now kneeling, praying the house would stand
Flying branches as if they were meant to
knocked repeatedly. Something cracked and fell
never to see whatever it was again.
Calm overcame, we slipped from the cellar
like a new born child. All was alive and well.