I learned the myth of the mound was blowing away
from the TV's urgent plea.
Humidity transformed into a sickly, green hue.
I need to see what is coming, but the cedars block the view.
The rapidly increasing darkness and howl means the monster broke free.
Sirens rise to take a stand, join the fray.

Mom's at the store, dad's day at the Capitol just began.
Alone. . . across the street to join the neighbors downstairs.
Inflow yanks at my feet, begging me to slip, and my eyes have to know.
Looking backward, I keep moving forward...it follows...I might be too slow!
Bathed in different light -- the dying sun, exploding blue arcs, headlights in the air.
The door latches, then leaves, along with everything else of where I just ran.

You tore my beliefs from their foundation
I lay, cut and broken, looking at a calm blue sky
While thunder threatens a repeat and rain soaks my skin.
I’m too shocked to realize this is not my imagination.
The fierce wind took my breath and I can’t get it back no matter how hard I try.
Words stumble over my tongue and don’t make it over the din.

I sensed something brewing, yet went forward with blind eyes
The anger rising like heat waves from the concrete.
The sadness leaching from the pavement, fueling the air.
It never ceases to amaze me, the fact that I’m surprised.
My thoughts, flailing about like a child’s tantrum, never complete.

Suddenly, it's upon me, and I walk into its lair.

Welcome inside the bear’s cage.
You won’t see me coming in the wrapping rain.
I’m going to tear you apart until there’s nothing more.
Everything you ever wanted, exploding in the windy rage...
           till nothing remains.
                       Choke the inflow,
                                    transition to a new tower,
                                                          ­       repeat as before.

Just home from work
and I'm still not quite here.

When it was morning,
I walked out on Tracy's simmering mood
and into her thick June sky.

The elephant's trunk hangs from a cloud
In sepia, it seems
there can be no explanation, but a dream
Scale out of whack -- no longer confined, no turning back.

In color,
smooth rampage just born
The trunk flails and takes aim.
Storms through the corn.
Coming for me to reconcile the blame.

I'm still not quite here.

In the afternoon,
as Tracy's sky dims to deathly grey and ghostly white,
I ran back to her worried eyes and reflected them back.
And directly, the stampede consumed my regret.

Black and white photo of horror in color
From a safe distance of many years
I luridly recall your details.

At the airport, I see your fearsome construction
I marvel at how it came together
And struggle to understand how and why, because
I couldn’t help then and I failed to help now.
Regret draws me closer.

Trespassing through a farm, stealing the earth
Late for work and malicious at birth
A hungry wind with a green sky calling card.
Darkening danger almost on top of us,
as dad watches from the garage
and we play in the front yard.
“Open the windows. . . get in the car!”

Only a few seconds to gain enough distance.

Our school, our home, our hands and voices
Couldn’t hold on or offer enough resistance
against the finger of God.

I couldn’t help then and what am I doing now?
Regret sweeps me away.

Sickle of wind
Meeting the wheat
Coming to cut me down...
cut me down to size.

A river will flow from my eyes
swift enough to sweep clean,
not deep enough to drown
the loss I'll come to realize.

St. John, I saw you each morning.
Taken for granted as this Sunday sun rises
Throwing a long shadow away from Bird St. on a day like any other, otherwise.
Barely aware of birds nervously fluttering across leafy branches in warning.

St. John, I still see you, but you're fading away.
As I rushed in from Dillons,
I took one last look toward the swirling gray.
and saw you enveloped by an angry exhale at the end of this day...
no longer like any other.


St. John, we find you inside us
and we won't let you go.
The shadows of so many lives cast upon your living walls.
We were born here,
we came in sick,
and some of us left well,
while others left with you
as you served your last full measure of devotion.

Your restoration is now our mission and the wheels are in motion.

I used to dream of spring
and a lifetime of long June days
I watched you walk away into the warm, whistling wind
Singing with your voice, "So long".

I should have stopped you in your tracks,
by the tracks long lost.
I should have realized and spoken these words...
"Take all my tomorrows and give me one more hour tonight."

I've been walking for so long,
but I've never gotten too far.
Impeded by spring's warm, whistling wind
which caught and carried our life away.

As I gaze into your face -- brilliant, blue, and fair.
Words catch and choke as I ask myself again.
How many more steps till I can stop drawing this spring air?