One Cold Day in March

I heard thunder.
Distant. A pounding
of rain on the roof.
My heart started to thud
and my mind flipping.
And then I realized I
possessed fear.
I remembered hiding
in the bathtub.
Shuddering as the
glass shattered
and the door flew away
leaving only the
green sky
turning and twisting.
As I walk by the
torches of pink trees
and notice the
contruction men packing
up to go home,
the wind whips my blue
jacket sleeves across my
forearms. I lift my hands
to my mouth and breathe
warmth into the numbness.
of my fingertips.
Those same floraled trees were
blooming with yellow puffs of insulation
only a few weeks ago.
And wreakage of the air conditioning
unit crushed one.
Leaving a gap
within the line.
Dead sticks
and kindling
reaching out
from underneath the
metal.
Like hands
stretching and searching
for the firemen
who were there that night.
But now they
point so prettily
towards the damaged
buildings.
And towards the south
they show me the path to
the bare ground
where my home
once stood.