My dogs look at me like I'm crazy.
They cock their heads and wag their tails
Sporadically,
Nervously,
Maybe hoping a wagging tail will calm me down.
It doesn't.
Almost one o'clock in the morning.
I started for bed two hours ago but never quite made it.
The wind is blowing,
And the trees are all whipping around
Like they don't know where to go
Or what to do,
But it's okay.
They have roots.
And the house is creaking,
And groaning,
As its windows keep bowing.
Like it doesn't know if it can take much more,
But it's okay.
It has a foundation.
It's all very unsettling....
And yet fitting.
In my entire life,
I've never felt lost like I feel now.
My father was my compass,
And now my compass is gone.
And I suddenly have no sense of direction.
And it's not okay.
(during a wind storm in the Taft Street house)
