“Crossing Bay of Fundy during hard gale…”

Visitor from New Brunswick mainland, not
Used to sea swells, crossing Bay of Fundy
During hard gale, landed on the island, could
Not sleep for all-night waterfall. “Where is
It?” she asked, hot cup of coffee, stumbling
Forth dark-cold at 3 am, first skiff of snow,
Wind house-pressing, roaring on wondering
Ears, in treetops off winding Whistle Road.

“It’s wind,” I offered. “Not nearby waterfall.”
Like avalanche, it fell upon us, up-ending
Trees, pushed down in clumps, along high-
Slopes of Whale Cove, storm most islanders
Would sit out, lobster boats secured before-
Hand, made afternoon grocery run, put more
Wood on the fire, lights blinking off and on,
Sit with us, until first streaked light of dawn.

By afternoon, wind subsided, except for few
Pushing gusts, time assess damage, what’s
Wind torn-away was not tied-down hard
Enough. We learnt to get used to it, even
Cat found his wind-weathering place, old
Bathmat on bottom shelf of bookcase. There
He felt safe, secure. Our friend from Saint
John, NB was curled up, taking quiet nap.

My effort at “W” wind-words:
“Wind house-pressing, roaring on wondering
Ears, in treetops off winding Whistle Road.
Thanks for reading.

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