
Vortex
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