Last night, a huge storm.

Branches torn from the maple,

Plants overturned on the porch,

Spilled from their safe little world,

Their clay pot with its gallon of dirt.

And won’t there be worse?

Won’t it happen to the people

We love? Then we’ll know sorrow.

The branch can’t be put back

On the tree. We scoop up

The earth and cover the roots—

Who knows if it will live?