After the Storm

We emerge when it's quiet
to inspect the damage
of the intense angry storm
which shook and rattled
our suddenly frail-seeming
shelters in the night.

See the bales of hay
with disheveled hairdo's
and damp sales papers
scattered like heartbroken
tissues across the parking lot.

Unaware of burgeoning sunlight
perfumed people line hard pews
in hopes of deliverance from
darkness.

A tow truck,
ghostly white,
floats by enroute to free
someone stuck in a rut or
brokendown far from home
with no one to turn to.

Cloud shadows like chess pieces
move across mountains
so clean and blessed and new
as the courthouse bongs noon
startling small birds free
in shifting liquid flight.