One Day
by JMChan 12/1/2007 American Samoa
Woke to heavy storm drops.
The rare crack of nearby thunder.
Brown castaways of wind and water float by us.
Through my sleepy eyes dash by dozens of Styrofoam cups, plastic bottles, plastic bags, glass bottles, twigs and branches; evidence of a virtual party.
But, it was the homeless refrigerator that brought a fright.
Playing dodge ball with a refrigerator,
We were it. It missed.
Then the soccer ball floated by,
I felt a sudden sadness.
Who lost their joy?
The wet has filled our air
On the one hand welcomed water for abundant showers.
On another, mopping up the perpetual leaks of failing port lights,
On another, that familiar and anticipated scent of lingering mildew.
Our Captain hollers, "come quick",
A frog, a toad, obviously some type of amphibian,
Treads water to survive.
Thirty feet below Mr. Toad, only water.
Jump, jump cries my heart, longing to save it.
Escaping my visual grasp,
Struggling to survive.
Hope, a branch to the rescue.
I should be use to the rain and wind by now,
But I am not.
Remembering a favorite phrase,
"From the ordinary comes the extraordinary".
Every storm, like snowflakes, different each one.
Each a storm a blessing.
Each a storm a demon.
Threat waits for no one.
We wait out the threat.
Alas, even this will pass.
The sun will blast in with burst of heat.
Even the sun a blessing.
Even the sun a demon.
Tomorrow waits for arrival.