haiku retrospective xxiv

beeping u.p.s
counterpoints rain's strong tattoo --
boulder creek winter.

lord willing and the
creek don't rise -- but, there, it did.
it rained a passion.

eight inches of fresh
silt lines two bar creek's stream bed.
river running brown.

down trees, power poles,
raging water and rushing wind --
drumbeat of nature.

four glowing oil lamps
light the playing children's games.
hand-wash the dishes.

national news tells
story of fresh disaster.
skeptic shakes her head.

we don't see the news,
tucked here behind the mudslides,
fallen trees, creek's flood.

phone rings all day long.
aural rubberneckers gawk --
all quiet storm front.

pineapple express
makes first delivery this
el nino winter.

flood waters recede.
booted woman clears storm drains.
trees shake out their beards.

power comes back on.
rush laundry through cycles,
fill lamps, freeze water.

pick through down branches
past the silt dumps and downed trees,
around the mudslides.

stock up on candles,
batteries, tp, water,
food, fuel. pick up mail.

big storm due tonight
heavy winds due tomorrow.
world telescopes.

all the world here.
this valley, this town, this creek
drainage, our watershed.

neighborhood draws close.
this household, hatches battened,
stands against the storm.

4 February 1998