by Angie Mimms
In weary Kentucky, deadly tornadoes are the latest
in relentless spate of storms.
– The Washington Post (Online), May 19, 2025
The tree swallow sits for the longest time
on a branch outside the bird house.
On the porch outside my brick house
for the longest time I sit and watch the swallow.
The swallow makes no move to enter the bird house despite my silent urging. Stilled by my silent urging, I make no move to enter my house. We two are braced against the relentless winds of the day
this destructive, despairing spring. This disastrous, deadly spring Earth’s twisting winds and men’s twisted words sweep everything into roaring chaos, fling lives like weary rag dolls across a rutted landscape.
Wild winds. Wild words. When comes the next dark storm? Bird house. Brick house. Where will our hope find home?
Pegasus 