Storm Watch

All through the night: wind
gusts that rattled.

Agitation of limbs, leaves
that hinged and sifted.

Deck furniture that banged
against brine-soaked wood.

I could not sleep so I made myself
a sandwich, I heated water for a cup

of tea. With every knock
on the eaves I listened,

wondered at the strength holding
mitered corners. A window

banged; and up the street,
a gate blustered open. But I knew

it was really the clamor
in my heart for which I listened.

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.