80 mph.

we were powerless
that night, in all
meanings of the word -
and call me selfish,
but i only thought of
one thing:

you.

imagining you and i
underneath our favorite
tree, admiring how
the sun filtered through
wispy leaves, ants
crawling upward
to get a better view.

if the direction of the
wind had changed,
that tree, the one with
the tilted, odd branch,
would have smashed
through my window.

i told mom
that i didn't care,
since you weren't here.

the ceiling could cave in,
i could lose my few hundred
square feet of privacy,
and i'd be fine.

but, the wind took
my tree in another direction.
and yesterday, they chopped
it down to clear a path.

i don't know how to feel
when feelings feel too much,
so i watch out my window,
marveling at the cheeky squirrel
who runs down the gravel,
and the birds and bunnies
curiously approaching
the tree stump,
dismissive of the uneven
ground.

call it wonder or awe or
another trial of time and
impetuous grief...

it all came crashing down.
it always comes crashing down.