Hurricane

Overnight, without warning, the good adversary knocked at her door*
He came in unceasing torrents
as the leaves fell into a rain dance
that had been going on for centuries
praising the thickening clouds
the foreboding sky
Screaming, pushing the air
in an effort to escape tree limbs
From the cavern of her room, lit only by
strobes of light that rattled her windows
She saw him but did not answer
And, in time, he departed
The leaves losing their stamina
The night losing its shade
Waiting
For he would knock again.

*Line from Jane Cooper's Long Disconsolate Lines