straight line winds - reprised

August storm forged east across the plain
straight line winds followed by the rain
Trees uprooted, limbs broken, roofs torn
laying over en-mass the acres of corn

Best corn that I'd ever grown
was my thought on Monday til
nature's wind being what it is
all creation bends to its will

And if I were a religious man
I'd heed the ancient words of
"After pride comes the fall"
but that's not all
not at all

Chainsaw serenade heard past midnight
house debris and limbs piled by daylight
Power out for nearly a quater mil
a hundred thousand without power still

A week later in recovery
the cleanup continues
in the battered landscape
in city and country views

And if I were a betting man
with neighbors like these
We'll rise up again
and will begin
to rest therein

(Yes, I remarked to My One the day before the storm that this was the best popcorn that I've raised.)

After nearly two weeks, there is still cleanup work to complete at the farm and in the community. One thing about Iowans is that we don't wait for help, we get to work. Those who had chainsaws started cleanup as soon as the storm cleared. Small food vendors have been preparing meals nearly every day for those who need them. Semi loads of food and water have arrived and distributed.

There's a lot of work left and about 10,000 electric customers in the area without power. The harder we work, the sooner we get back to our lives.

Linked to Poets and Storytellers United: Writers’ Pantry #34: Writing Is Easy

Seeking Slient Grace

I stood on the bank of the river
where Tommy O'Brien had drowned.
They say he died of a stolen kiss
his love gave to the shop keeper's son.

Mathilda cried through that dark empty night
when she desired more love than she had.
Then the walls crashed down to show the pain
would the pills in her hand let it fade?

On that day the bank took back his farm
after another year of crop loss.
Sean looked to the bottle for solace
and stared down the barrel of his gun.

Would Grace had greeted to save them
or Hope given them life on that day?
If they looked out instead of within
would they be given another way?

May we find a cure for one's lost dreams
heartaches and the depths of despair.
In silence we hear those quiet pleas
to grant peace they seek for their own.

For those who are struggling - there is hope.

Linked to Poets and Storytellers United:Weekly Scribblings #9: Contagion