Wild-treed wind whips boisterously

below fast flying sky,

Hula dancing leaves whose gyrating hips leap left then right,

like seafull-fish in schools running from the shark’s attack,

Suicidal boughs

Threaten to crack and loudly cry,

Clouds run, riotously, coughing wet white mists

across rainforested canopy,

like sails atop violent masts, enraged in threatened tack.

And I lay inside a woodshined cabin, on lofted, mezzanine bed,

Gentle, soft sounds of tapdropped water easing from the kitchen below,

contradicting the weatherbeaten world outside,

and keep arm’s length the clatter and clutter of cold damp waiting day,

I am warm in fire fueled air,

And listen to the hisskissing bacon, and barely eggboiled water,

But watch through full wall window glass as the raging outside swirls, fighting to enter my temperate envelope

and wood floored bungalow

As breakfast cooks.