Chris

Mid month
as a good a time as any other
to write of howling winds that smother

Every hint
of comfort and the daily norms
to replace them all with Darragh’s storms

Which break
the trees which crash and fall upon
wires, and thus: the village power has gone

And then
in every room in every country cottage
is darkness from the lack of wattage

No heating
warms, no ovens cook, no hobs to boil
and freezers let their contents spoil

Crouched around
wood burning stoves we try to read
by candlelight, wondering how to ...