Once Upon a Breeze

 

Prologue

I waited for the tornado beside the green tomatoes

My back to the warm bricks, palms in the dirt, heels in the grass.

The clouds came, the thunder stumbled over me, and then

My grandmother came to make me go inside, to clean up.

Tiny tornadoes had taken the tomatoes the year before;

All this storm did was rain and steam.

Chapter 1

Years later, I am sitting on a Starbucks porch,

Watching the swift traffic, feeling even more exposed,

When I hear a girl running rhymes and calls,

Dropping feathers and lecturing the grackles on kindness.

It’s a group noun for fairies, she says.

Then she winks at me.

Tornadoes are sloppy, she tells them.

Houses are good disguises, though, beach houses especially.

I buy out the muffin plate and leave pastries on my table.

I hear her laughing as I leave.

Chapter 2

I grew up just far enough from the beach

That my parents had an excuse.

It’s like the start of a novel, but there’s nothing new

About parental excuses.

You’ve got to learn somewhere.

I drive down to visit, stay for lunch.

Make a good excuse. Drive to the beach.

It’s a hot afternoon and the birds are loud.

I remember snacks--technically, my leftovers.

A seagull trades a few fries for a tip about a light house,

An empty house. For the rest of my sandwich, he flew me away.

Chapter 3

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Our house snagged on the edge of Crown Shell City;

Fell on one of the low rims, beside smooth walls, 

Shining like a Greek city in a faded photo, 

And I’m working up my courage to go outside.

To meet my neighbors in the lavender twilight.