High Winds and Low Pressures

The sun backs through a cloud,
points to rain spots on the
morning window, floods the table
and buttered toast while the coffeepot
chuckles and paper napkin hugs
knife-and-fork, the yellow gaze
of eggs stares from a plate and
salt-and-pepper shakers wear
stained faces.
It came with the morning paper,
still heavy with the storm that rocked
the house last night, glance through
the window at the oak tree’s
broken branches, see the day’s table
spread with domestic blessings and
turn to the headlines for
the world’s unpleasant news.