New Mirage Journal

Surviving Irene
 
Hurricane blows hard.
We sit through it in stuffy air
windows tight, random branches
striking the walls, wind’s
uneven roar filling us.
 
Frankly, it’s boring
with an edge of terror.
The cats sleep. The power
winks out, so no water
from our well, no light.
 
We watch a pine sway,
bend.  A great crack
and slowly, gradually
it falls toward us.  We
race from the room
 
listening for the crash
that will break open
our house.  But
it misses by two feet,
misses the oil tank
 
by less than a hand’s
breadth, so we won’t
have to evacuate with
five cats and piss out
thousands.  This blue
 
morning without power
still we are happy
that the storm has left,
left us each other, five
cats and our house
 
our life intact.

                                                 ~Marge Piercy