Storm...closing trees...bending,
Breaking off ten feet from
The ground...
She waits.
Wind...breaking, lights out,
A while...creaking, denying
Hope? Not so.
Red soil...
Bound.
She curls in the angle the
Big dumpster makes...
If it moves...she will.
Not until
Then.
In the morning after, she
Moves...could have
Been worse...
Her dumpster has only
Moved
The next street
Over....
And, she thanks God...
It could have been
Her.
elysabeth faslund
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/homeless-woman-in-the-hurricane/
