The crack of thunder, a frenzied dance of branches, safe inside a broken heart. Unsettled, nothing is as it was. Not that the past was a paradise but there was a place for everything and most everything was in its place. I am in a three legged race with both legs of mine in the burlap sack. Don't laugh, the breeze will knock me over. If it was just me pulled by this vortex, I could reach a hand out and shout for help. But the world is erupting, ash in the air and Pompeiis appearing where communities lived just days before. And when the water pulls back and the silence feels like respite seek higher ground the tsunami is still gathering. As a child my father would often break into song for no apparent reason other than his joy at bellowing as we would hike the trails that towered above the Hudson. And now one comes to mind. "I went to the rock to hide my face and the rock cried out. "No hiding place down here."" With a world erupting and no hand to hold, I sit cross legged on the cushion and begin to draw deep breaths in and long sighs out. I close my eyes and count my blessings and am surprised at how many. The noise inside subsides and I whisk the few that remain aside and focus on my breath.