DAWN affords clear

visibility beyond glass doors.

Darkness offered driving rain,

wild, whipping wind – howling, flexing,

rattling vinyl siding, walls and windows.

Ancient tall trees suddenly fell in

thunderous foundation-shaking thuds.

Thick branches cracked, split,

moaned in protest, earthy roots exposed.

Acorns popped against windows

like corn popping. Shredded chips

of summer leaves plastered sideways

against all glass surfaces, tick-tick-tick.

Covering the ground, a Matrix

of “spider web” branches

filled with leaves still green,

acorn “victims” pooled beneath.

Cavernous holes in the earth

where trees once grew, now

peeled back, earth-scabs

revealing matted shallow roots

grown over granite slabs just under

the surface of the earth throughout Maine.

Generators hummed throughout

the night. Sounds of rebuilding,

re-ordering the neighborhood.

Weeks fill with the sound of many

Buzzing chainsaws ripping mighty

trees into piles of wood chips.

Stillness descends,

turbulence at last quieted,

Mother Nature mourns

for the loss of precious trees,

stately children of her forest

on the Kennebec.

Curious homeowners scour

a once-thick forest, tripping over

downed branches or dangling roots

ripped from the storm-ravaged earth.

Deer, moose, small animals

sniff the wind, newly alert,

searching for new, secure homes.

Hunter orange soon mingles

with thick layers of yellow,

orange, red and chocolate brown

fall leaves whose tethers ripped

from strong tree branches

in micro-bursts whipping

through one town across the

Kennebec River to the next.

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