As the hurricane passes,
I peek through the window
and witness breath made wild.
The forest breathes—
wind caught between two regal palms,
heaving hard after the hurricane’s wrath.
Fronds hold tight,
withstanding the wild scream
without snapping—
holding
to raise their palms again
in the next great gust.
The river pants with nervousness,
its waters holding their breath
until the sky breaks open,
and release comes
with every thunderous squall.
Nature breathes—
strength surges in every exhale,
in every trembling draw of air,
alive in the fierce rhythm
of gasping, panting,
holding,
and releasing
its swirling maelstrom.