After the big bad bug got us
on vacation, after a canceled flight
home and a long drive up the center
line of our state, in this season of rain
and wind, watching the widening
pond consume the backyard, after
electricity vanished days ago thanks
to a downed tree and uprooted
power pole down the street—

we realize that we are struck by
inconvenience, not crisis, finding
heat in flannel sheets and soft
blankets topped by cats, making
tea and plugging in devices at
the homes of those who invite us in.

Pummeled by weather,
not bombs or invading forces,
we are assured that our power
will return at some point, and we
fortunate souls on standby
trust that it will be so.

On my way this morning to drive
Mom to appointments and errands,
I admire the greening of the rural
roadside that only that only
weeks ago wore an untidy mop
of parched weeds. And look—
the leafless oaks, some up to their
knees in rainwater, tiny buds
already dotting their stems,
they wait, too.