An Autumn Storm

by Glenn Currier

Luminous long leaves,
flowers of
yellows, reds, and greens
some edges serrated
some smooth
fall so softly
into our eyes
from west to east.

They are flags
over earnest chatter
of weather men
in antiseptic, well-lit studios,
mapping the unfolding chaos
of the approaching front
signaling this
violent end of autumn.

And we


in the soft warm comfort
of bed and den
see the lightning
and hear the thundering
of this storm


bringing the abrupt ending
of lifecycles
ripping limbs from family trees
altering histories.

And in the morning
the luminescent screen
shows us ground zero
become minus
hearts, eyes, feet and ears
and futures
of laughter and children's joyous squeals
and convalescence
and births
and rebirths.

All of the above
now only artifacts
distant evidence of
the stones
that rained particles of hell
from the heavens
and pelted their peace
and broke the geography
and stole the lineage
of their lives.

Last night's storm
in the morning paper
only a listing
of the collateral damage
to Lancaster and Jalalabad,
Decatur and Herut
Kennedale and Kabul.


Posted on 12/28/2001
Copyright © 2020 Glenn Currier

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