Then it's gone

I prop my breasts next to my mango sweet ice tea.

I rest my chin in my hands.
I gaze out the window at the storm.

The trees flail their limbs helplessly in the wind’s rage.

What is behind your anger? ask the trees.

There’s usually fear under the anger, say the trees.

The insects scurry away,

The squirrels hide, the birds cower

in the tumult.

The grass breaks under the pounding of the rain.

The ground can’t escape the beating of the rain’s fists.

What is your motivation for hitting? asks the grass

What is behind your anger?

We are afraid of changing, say the wind and the rain

We don’t want to change.

The storm wanes and then it’s gone.

The sun peeks out timidly through cracks in the dark fretful clouds.

It’s over now. say the trees, the grass, the ground

I’m sure it won’t happen again they say.

I watch the storm through the window
in comfort. My glasses slip down my nose.

The dog sleeps. It’s gone.