Something Wicked

Before the storm

leaves sweep across the street
and branches bend
the wind
messes with papers
birds can't fly right
windows slam without human touch
car doors fling open
hair goes everywhere and nowhere
when the rain comes it falls sideways

maybe that's a summer wind
maybe that wind means well
an over exuberant child begging
to be put in the game

the winter wind
acts like it's won
bullys with icy breath
that picks at your legs
through your jacket
to your stomach 
straight to the heart

winter wind acts like change will never come again
acts like it can wipe out anything and everything
doesn't want the world to remember
that even in a barren land
what falls
always leaves remnants
waiting to grow again
ready to converge with what rises*

*Everything That Rises Must Converge by Flannery O’Connor is my new favorite title, and a phrase I wonder about now most of my days.