by John R. Greenwood
How fragile this life. A balancing act between earth and her whims. A mighty wind blows and life becomes death just one wave away. We smirk when warnings blare. Not our problem. Not my yard. But then, just as we turn and walk away, a boat lands upside down in your driveway, staring in through the plateless window. Now what? Who cares now? Where are the red lights filled with men and their helping hands. Heed the news next time we say. Who was paying attention. No one could ever imagine. Only the ones before who lay witness to strong winds and forecasts shown. Deep waters flow where they like. They settle in places they'd never been before-or again. So slight our tempest seemed, while her Sandy curls waved from far off seas. But now her anger felt. Her message heard. I will not be ignored. Nor taken for weak. You were the fragile one she says- like a clay jug balanced up high.