Strange days of recent, passed
	with warm winds through here blown.
Riding ahead - the herald front
	behind which, thunder's patience tried.

Can last no longer, trapped inside,
	this storm's impatience grown,
and stronger this repressed tumult,
	till loud released, dark season's tide.

So, tried as I to pay no mind
	as brewing danger now is felt,
for, steady, holds the storm's approach,
	to swift encroach and head this way.

As evening, early, swallows day
	and light gives way to fear that follows
close behind, this unknown looms,
	and thus consumes my peace of mind.

No peace here in this night to find,
	no fond mood rests the heart from woe,
and though protected withinside,
	deep withinside the trouble grows.

As through this eve' its cries are growing,
	the blowing to rise from out pitch black,
this rising, ever, pitch of wailing -
	wind attacks the membrane fine.

The line 'tween worlds is almost crossed,
	protective veil to almost lose.
But lost, not yet, still braves the gale,
	to keep me close from harm.

Yet within me can be no calm.
	Incessantly the howling threatens,
shaking, prying, lifting, breaking -
	fragile - all - within its path.

Power lines meet nature's wrath,
	screaming shrill as they're molested.
Their mettle tested till almost snapped,
	as if mere silken threads.

This wind - so violent, it blows.
	The lines, like violin, it bows.
A playful tone deaf child,
	sawing away at tender strings.

Electron blood may cease to flow
	from Tesla hearts through Tesla veins.
Remains for now, but under stress -
	this human lifeblood under duress.

Pitted, nature's power versus man's.
	Submitted, infrastructure to destructor.
Immovable and irresistable contend.
	What end could by this force be planned?

What will this storm let loose from high?
	What climax of this thrusting born?
What flood the wind this way to send?
	I wait, I wonder... apprehend.

Then, after hours of building tense,
	these clouds so dense, with torrents pent,
at last are rent by thunder's blast,
	cracked open, reservoirs up high.

The thickened sky can hold no more.
	Rain, soft at first, begins to fall,
then starts to pour once skyborne sea -
	huge torrents to dry earth descend.

Yet, without end, still no relief -
	not even brief to pause, this wind.
Still shake, the doors, and windows bend,
	the rain is no release - no stay.

For wind and rain in concert play
	a game so cruel, so foul a scheme,
as team they gang up, us their foe,
	and toil to overthrow our reign.

Yes, rain and wind in concert play
	this twisted tune - duet macabre -
man's puny structures, instruments
	with which nature performs its score.

Exacts its score, no less, no more,
	for rain and wind's concerted ploy
to render justice thus succeeds,
	thus speeds upon us nature's dues.
	
As once were to abuse our might
	now, tables turned, and nature rules,
so cowering this hour in our fear -
	fast draws near, the reckoning of fools.

With fatal gust, the gavel slams,
	the verdict just is thus delivered.
Guilty! Guilty, the decree.
	Guilty in the first degree!

Summarily, the sentence passed,
	the penalty at last imposed.
Nature's vengeance blow now dealt,
	so slashed man's sweet supply of juice.

Let loose, the reigns that tethered homes,
	once taught restrains now lain down limp.
The wind this anchor to the light to lift -
	soon set adrift to darkest night.

Brave lamps that once shone bright gone dead,
	no light now shed to fend off dark.
Their life force fled so suddenly,
	now darkness from outside floods in.

Ears filled with din, but eyes are drained -
	as noise was gained, thus light is lost.
So, loudest loud and darkest dark,
	now mark the starkest constrast seen.

So through unseen I wade and fumble,
	so made to stumble, as if blind
through obstacles once so familiar,
	now unfamiliar and unkind.

Tight panic grips me suddenly - an urgency,
	as desparate gasps for breath,
as drowning in the deepest ocean,
	the deepest primal notion: dark is death.

A suffocating darkness -
	asphixiation of the eyes.
Their cries for light, so deafening,
	I'm spurred to quell their plea.
	
I seek safety of torchlight glow,
	so low, its gold cast on this place,
so faint, yet such a saving grace -
	sweet sustainance for hungry eyes.

I sit, now, in this dim light waiting,
	waiting for full light's return -
yearning to feast my eyes upon
	the light shone from electric stars.

But injury barres their new dawn.
	Repairs now born in gusts and showers,
for desperate hours until so late -
	great efforts of a surgeon crew.

Still, through the veins no power comes -
	no gadget humms with sixty Hertz.
Darkness asserts my shadow plight,
	to this dim light still seen no end.

Attempts to mend the faults, in vain,
	in veins no volts, still they run dry.
No sweet supply to feed and nourish -
	so light can flourish from dormant bulbs.

Resigned to mull, beset by anguish,
	my mind to languish in this dearth,
null worth, though, left in frenzied thought,
	now powerless, nought course but sleep.

Pushed deep, ear plugs, to dull the din,
	frenetic thoughts lulled from my mind -
a slow unwind of twisted core,
	from mad furor into light slumber.

A mere small number of minutes by,
	before I start upon my drift,
now, heavy to lift, my sinking eyes,
	relief lies deep in truest peace. 

Yet short to cease, my rest eludes -
	so rudely woken to storm's grief,
brief respite ends by panicked start
	with heart apace, from rest I bound.
	
Yet, no cause found, mere false alarm,
	no harm done by some airborne crud,
yet every muffled thud breeds worry,
	and in this sorry state I suffer.

My buffer to this onslaught failing,
	low rumble from the wailing left,
thus I'm bereft through all eve's hours,
	as it devours that peace so perfect.

And the effect: a sleep starved stupor,
	to stew perpetually inbetween,
ill mean, half conscious, and craving strong,
	I long for that subconsious keep.

No sleep, though, this youngest morn,
	to drift brief moments then once more
torn from shallow slumber -
	no welcome petit mort, far less.

No rest, no rest, far less.
	Far greater is this tempest voice,
than sweet sleep's compose,
	so rose from calm to its incess'
		engaged beyond my choice.

Loud rapping at my door, less grace,
	implores me to embrace its will,
yet still as I resist, it comes -
	no still allowed upon this place.

So, begs the question...

Safe in this shelter of my womb?
	The inner sanctum sealed? No!
Revealed, the weaknesses that yield
	slight passages inside.

Driven rain to touch untouched -
	as if caressed, once secret spots.
Exposed the unexposed, once dry, now drenched
	to now be quenched from heaven's cry.

For by these rains no malice meant,
	nor dark intent beneath lies hid,
but wind's disguise this innocent
	desire to soothe the earth has stained.

To treat the pain, borne up on winter's winds,
	sweet salve, this rain, borne down on summer's wounds,
to cleanse and heal the dry scarred earth,
	and so give birth to Lent's offspring.

Yet for this offering no welcome offered,
	unwelcome pleas of clouds are spurned,
they yearn, dejected, to embrace -
	enter this place and feel my touch.

And on and on like such imploring,
	hours and hours this pouring pleads.
Relentless raindrops, never tiring,
	deafening barrage entreats.

While wind beats on us, far less gracious -
	rapacious beast rips loose its prey,
to frey the least connected free -
	with glee tormenting weak and frail.

This gale like psychopathic barber trims,
	great limbs of trees, mere toothpics, snapped
with disregard - dismembered, marred,
	from amputees ripped free and strewn.

With branches pruned, from crowns, cones too torn free -
	thrown forcefully against embattled shell.
Under this spell of wind I'm caught -
	dire onslaught of projectiles hurled.

Curled up like soldier in a bunker,
	I hunker down, with house as shield.
while, wielded by the heavens' force,
	with no remorse nor sympathy:

Miscellany of shards, demon propelled -
	from hell dispatched, a fierce attack.
Roof shingle shrapnel whistling by,
	while missiles fly in form of cones.

Grenades of clustered cones lobbed too,
	to crash into the fragile roof,
to smash in two the house-skin scales -
	more shingle shrapnel on the gale.

Then fingers claw to get a grip,
	beneath a lip or weakened flange
and jolt the roof off like a lid -
	in a ravenous bid to pop this can.

Cannot, though, yet, as hard it tries
	as hard it pries, denied reward,
cannot afford it its due lot,
	must not profit its evil work.

This night, bezerk, like nothing seen,
	green leaves, mere pollen, to the wind
and in defiance of known laws,
	rain pours in horizontal bent.

A vent of winter's rage, once held,
	unleashing hell-derived ill blight,
great might that grew through autumn's balm,
	now threatens harm in fearsome thrusts.

As typhoon gusts crash down like waves,
	so waves of panic swell inside,
nerves tied in knots and heart pounds hard,
	and harder still with each attempt.

Alone... and scared I lie in wait -
	the fate of this soft house not known.
Buffetted and blown, shook to its core -
	a war zone on the outside now.

How much more can weak walls withstand?
	As fury's fanned to reach its peak,
they creak and groan under this strain -
	again and then again they're rammed.

Viciously slammed, then violent mauling,
	then the falling, crashing thuds,
till soon fear floods my anxious mind,
	left blind to hope, expecting worst.

Yet worst is not, as feared, brought on,
	nor wrought upon this house, great hurt,
exerted all its force, now spent -
	sent on its way, quick as it came.

Near burned out flame, an ebbing tide,
	who's rage subsides till soon abated,
who's lust near sated, tamed once more,
	once awesome roar turned timid bow.

Of now, the storm deceased -
	once waters trapped, released.

And in these hours of darkest dawn
	once arduous hours of labor spent
cracked open, rent, this shell - a door invites
	the wailing wind from out, within
		the mind as newborn, once again.

So, strange warm days of recent passed,
	then followed by the rage.
Yet was this truly rage, I ask.
	Misunderstood, winter's assuage?

For, exorcised, deep dread within,
	and in its wake, a calm, no din,
more still than still was broken 'fore,
	no door now keeps her out, me in.