The quiet changes

With rain wrapped ’round

And the air holds a strangeness

As of waiting

The morning rests in dimness

With clouds sinking low

And the world lives in strangeness

Like an ambulance shriek

The roof line weeps

With water racing down

And the ground sinks into strangeness

Like a whitewater rush

The house is wrapped tight

In air run to water

As we push through the strangeness

To find familiar again – Caroline A. Slee