In which this poem wrote itself and insisted that I write it down
In the darkest part
Of the longest night
A storm wakes me.
The bedroom window,
Open a crack to let in fresh air
Allows in the sound of weather against the house.
The sky sings out
“I am the whole ocean,
And you are a boat in a mighty hurricane!”
My little house, hunkered inland, tucked up to the foothills,
“I am a pirate ship filled with treasure,
And your sea cannot drown me, scurvy dog!”
The sky throws splashing buckets of cold rain
Over the bow of the house.
The house whoops and squeals,
And plunges face-first into the next playful wave
In the sky-made winter waterpark.
In the warmest bed
Under the snuggest covers,
I ease a bare foot out of the blankets,
Reach it into the long dark night,
And push the window open just a little more.