Microburst

The downdraft slams the ground

blasting wind down the mountainside

ripping words from my soul 

Phrases slap against my mind

like my hair whipping

against my face

until my eyes fill with tears

It stings 

vision blurs

and I’m blind to all else

The gusts die down

the moment passes

I am left gasping and staring

at the debris

strewn across the page

Slowly I pick myself up

gather my thoughts

sort through 

the scattering of words

A poem is released.

--Sasha Wolfe