Rain scatters its tacks
onto a thin, felt roof

and untrimmed branches
drop their bombs –

wind is zinging with water –
skylights sizzle like hot fat

frying up an abundance;
And the house is cosier

intact, keeping the world at bay;
And would you, waking, raise

one fragile arm to protect –
or mouthing appropriate words

calm what rises & is vexed –
even into the vortex?

Umbrella Head​