We Were Warned

Hail ricochets the window
With trembling and vibration, 
Coursing through the bed frame
Like a road worker’s drill;
The storm pursues its path,
Relentless as its intent;
We were warned 
The forecast said;
As in the darkness
Spring is torn from its bed
Sap is centrifuged in stems
Anchored roots are tested;
The ash will give up branches
Of buds which will never open
To be repurposed 
As spring will rebuild
Renewed.

For now there is nothing 
But to listen,
To lifting slates
And to thundering rhythms
And things being carried
Into the night.