Home,
where are you?
One moment nowhere
the next, everywhere.
Mostly, home is not here.
Nothing's settled.
Except for that gnawing inside.
It flits and grasps and tries to have
Something
But nothing comes
just waiting
unmoored
Like a spring bulb chomped and uprooted by grazing deer.
My form upside down
Flowers to the ground
Roots splaying skyward
A heap of loose dirt by my side.
Can someone please replant me?
But no.
Nothing is as it was.
Or as it will be.
Instead, the wind shakes the home I once knew
bearing down on us both like a freight train
Full bore
The house and I shudder.
Creaking and groaning,
I try to find my bearings:
What's the wind telling you?
The house?
The now?
I try to listen
Soon, these gale force blusters will subside.
But not tonight.
So for now we whip and flail about.
Me,
the house,
the wind
All in it
Together.