Tuesday Poem: The wind was

This is how bad the wind was -- 
the cat ran to the sea wall, turned
tail and ran straight back, ears flattened.

This is how bad the wind was --
light fittings shook inside the houses,
and inside it was like someone breaking in.

This is how bad the wind was --
when people crossed the street
a cardboard box crossed with them.

This is how bad the wind was --
an old man in a coat tottered as he left
the bridge, looked like he might fly.

This is how bad the wind was --
as bad as Featherston's which is,
you said, second only to Tierra del Fuego's. 

This is how bad the wind was --
but you won't know it now after taking
that car, that road, that day to Oban. 

This is how bad the wind was --
but you are here, aren't you?
Unflustered,

seeking each of your four daughters in turn --
apple cheeks, unruly hair turned windward. 



                              Mary McCallum


Written this last windy Saturday.

For more Tuesday poems pop to the Tuesday poem hub.