Night Willows

Worry winds whip
the roof tiles,
pounding the dog's heart rate
a yelp above normal pulse.

Willows bend
outside my window,
storms come
and leaves blow, with an occasional branch,
down the bluff.

I won't walk out on the choppy bay
but go to the sink
for a drink to calm down.
Dehydration a very spiritual metaphor.

Midnight prayers
with morning in mind,
selling the stark dark short.

There is a root
I belong to,
fruit connected to faith,
not shadows on a wall.

Lightning
silhouettes
a trunk.

Man like arms
and hair
up raised.

Jesus slept through
worse than this, so
it must be the dog
keeping me awake.