the earthquake deigned to rumble through our house,
a runaway train rattling against windowpanes,
careening along like some crazy joy rider,
hurling from nowhere to no where's end.

porcelain plates thrown by a drunken juggler
smashing in splintered shards of blue and white,
ponies in the paddock tossing their manes,
wildly galloping with eyes rolled back in panic.

Mother stood in the middle of this, glaring, hands on hips,
albeit body now tilted at a somewhat precarious angle,
but staunch nonetheless - mouth shaped in a perfect 'O',
determination to remain upright tattooed in her stance.

tiles began to dislodge cascading into the yard,
detonating like shrapnel from an exploding nail bomb
and water began belching from a discontented drain cover,
all in all not the best of Mondays...

considerately it departed as quickly as it arrived,
leaving dislodged furniture upended in its wake,
Mother, as calm as ever in an earthquake, swat a circling fly
which had the audacity to try to seek refuge in her hair.

No other and me began the painstaking reconstruction,
thankful that the walls of our humble dwelling
had refrained from lurching into the yard beyond,
Mother disappeared to explore the medicinal benefits of gin.