storm story

Milton Brasher-Cunningham

16 Apr 2007

We wanted to be a part
of the grand equation:
a nasty nor’easter,
an astronomically high tide,
a new moon --
so we set out in the dark
and the cold, blowing rain
toward the sea wall
to see the storm.
The wind drove us home.

This morning we could see
the flooded road
from our kitchen window.
“Why do you think
they call it Canal Street?”
she asked, smiling.
The tide was coming in
again as I left for
work, thankful to have
four wheel drive.

We like to have storm
stories, telling where we
were when the winds
howled and whirled,
when the tree fell or
the power went out:
stories of survival.
I was miserable walking
last night, but that's not
how I'll remember it.

Peace,
Milton

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