It smells like Christmas this morning
as the storm has demolished a few spruces.
Every colorful leaf has been taken away,
and our power, if it was ever ours, is gone.
We watch cars and trucks go up the hill
and come right back down the road
that now dead ends at a horizontal pine.
It's hard to have faith in some kind of order
when so many things are broken so quickly,
when long-used pathways are blocked.
I feel like a chess piece taken off the board
before it has been fairly captured, but then,
such can be the whim of an impatient master.
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