Nature’s Semaphore as Election Metaphor

.

We stand on the porch of our beachside Carolina home
and see the black mountain range of cloud race toward us
at 140 miles per hour—though it looks still—

flashing with lightning and slowly swirling
like a childhood nightmare
or a missile
falling on someone else’s children.

The future always is far far away

until it isn’t

and we’ve either
battened down our whatevers

or we haven’t....

Either way:

the wind will blow.