sometimes i can see the wind, standing tall, poised, ready to huff and puff and blow everything away. blow all of it away. taking a deep breath, barely thinking it over, and all anyone hears is an angry whoosh. sometimes it's a long one, lasting for days at a time. other times it's short and simple but just as destructive. sometimes i can see the wind gently caressing the small, delicate trees, sympathizing with its few leaves. at times, the wind fiercely roars at the bigger trees and - snap - breaks it in half, just like a pencil. it's all gone.
then silence; deafening silence.
no one can hear anything, not by far, no.
nothing could get worse, could it?
all of a sudden, a rush of wind. it happened so fast. some are lucky. some aren't as much. everything's torn apart, scavenged through like garbage by raccoons. uprooted trees. fallen buildings. fatalities. sirens.
it takes time, work, and effort, but it all comes back together with everyone's help.
A/N: lack of capitalization was a choice! also, this is my first prose poem since... ever? it was sort of meant to be an extended metaphor, between hurricane and life, but i dunno, please poke at it and give me all the tips c: