52

The air is so still...
after a night full of thunder
with trees down in the yard,
branches and leaves scattered about,
unripe plums on the ground
drawing fruit flies,
and next spring's lilacs broken
by the battering wind.

The humidity is intolerable.

Longing for quiet.

I know not how, but yet I hope
the daylily will give forth another glorious bloom
to last but one day,

and though diminished by the storm,
the plum tree will yet bear fruit this summer,
the sugar maple that lost its branches
will continue to make sap,
and I will spend another stormy night
entangled

in your embrace.