Prairie Roller

I've taken a quick glance through the debris, maneuvering carefully as not to step on an upstanding nail or nick my leg on corrugated sheet metal.  I'm not looking for anything specific, nothing of importance remains. The foundation is strewn with old bottles that had been tucked away for a cold rainy day, when a nip would hit the spot. No, Im just surveying to make sure everything is here. There are a few souvenirs that weren't disturbed from organization. Oblivious that the walls once protecting them, had been shattered by air pressure and carried away. Theres a raw and eerie anxiousness engulfing the site. After seeing a few of these, I calmly shake my head in relief.
This storm had great impact, a booming, disorienting mass of billowing soot colored cloud. It could be seen coming and building for a long while.
I'd been seduced by a few big, beautiful prairie rollers in my time, first one I can remember I was 10. I thought Id seen it all at that advanced age. This one, "jeeezuss", as I rub my head, this was the worst ever.

Its customary to gather as one surveys the damage, this time Ive decided, I'll gather nothing.
Its amazing what one thinks is necessary to salvage and polish up after a storm, though encumbered, its carried on to the next residence and stored, as it may be useful later. Ultimately these items obtained from estate sales and childhood travels serve as reminders of ones survival, resilience and strength.
As if ones reflection isn't proof enough.

As one gathers and carries, rollkur sets in.