January 31: Roar
Kristen Lindquist
This morning I awoke to a roar outside that made me think for a brief instant that I was back in my usual bedroom on Monhegan hearing the sound of the surf pounding the island's rocky shore. Instead, gale force winds and driving rain engulfed the house with a loud, malevolent energy, flinging branches. Lights flickered. The river, wild with storm water, added its own white noise to the scene.
A co-worker's child told him the trees blowing outside their house this morning looked like "angry hair."
A few hours later, however, all is calm. Big patches of blue sky shine behind breaking clouds. The trees barely stir, and the temperature is almost the same outside as it is in. Ah, the vagaries of the weather in New England.
Roar of the sea familiar
outside my bedroom window.
I wish I were back there.
A co-worker's child told him the trees blowing outside their house this morning looked like "angry hair."
A few hours later, however, all is calm. Big patches of blue sky shine behind breaking clouds. The trees barely stir, and the temperature is almost the same outside as it is in. Ah, the vagaries of the weather in New England.
Roar of the sea familiar
outside my bedroom window.
I wish I were back there.