Ottertail County Windstorm

(This is a poem I composed in Writing of Poetry last semester. In imitation of a poem by Gary Soto, it explores the impact that a windstorm at my family's cabin when I was in 9th grade had on me.)

Once again, tell me, what was it like?
A paddle boat, broken, tipped
Askew twenty feet from shore,
Past tracks in the sand once
Worn by constant pull
Of blue boat runners
Where we slumped in our seats to reach
The pedals, churned
Our freedom into the waves

What about the farmyard?
There was no shade;
Dirt and grass clumped along the taut threads
Of upturned trees’ roots;
These green awnings here had yearly
Swelled with patriotic Tjornhoms’ song—
Gasoline’s scent now a sharp
Tranquilizer as chainsaws seared our ears.

And the tree fort?
Centered in field of milkweed
And sumac that had taught
My city-chafed ears the balm
Of silence,
The platform, stripped
Off, hung in the tree,
My teenage metaphor
For God,
Snagged by twisted
Branches, upraised
Arms torn down.