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.

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