4. Spared

Outside tonight, it's warm
and so humid
I believe I can swim through it.
Hurricane Earl hasn't done much here
but drag in half the ocean's moisture
stored in low-hanging
clouds like full cheeks.

It's been like this for eight hours
now,
like it's restraining itself,
waiting for the perfect moment.

I stood out there on the quiet, muggy street and
noticed the trees and shrubs
were
tensely attentive,
like they know something.

I listened to the trees to see if they could tell me about the weather.
I listened to the trees to see if they could tell me about our fate.

They knew I was listening
and tolerated me
as though I were a fly on the screen
which is right.

But they weren't telling,
and so I fell asleep.

Morning would bring sunshine
with drier
cooler
air.