April 14: The marking of a moment

I have driven under a tornado, noting
its shifting form as we argued
whether to take shelter
under a bridge or to keep going,
the car lifting from the ground
with each gust of wind.

Nature follows laws, 

even when we do not know
their structure or form,
or how we are changed.
Doesn’t Nature’s beauty seem accidental,
the possession of artists, intuitive
and somehow intimate, a living poem,
a respite from our own commitment

to order, a commentary 

on the marking of a moment, 

or hours or days, or a life.

Cloudy Sky by jplenio (Pixabay)

Robert Lee Brewer, over at Writer's Digest, with his poetry prompts for National Poetry Month, asks us to consider/write about form or not form. That led to my thinking about how even the most chaotic objects around us have a form, even when we cannot see or understand it. This leads some philosophers to say (as they think about  molecular levels), "I am sitting upon a chair, but is it really a chair?"

Napowrimo's prompt suggests we write something about how we came to write, what other writer or person inspired us. I didn't want to return to that dark time but forever think of my aunt who invited me to come and live with her to go to college. That's when my writing began.