shutters

When I moved to Portland, Oregon, I was amazed by the rain that never stormed (and so missed storms eventually), and that houses had shutters solely for decoration. I've seen houses in Missouri that have these now as well, but couldn't get over the initial shock of not being able to close the shutters. After 14 years in Oregon, I understand there really is no purpose for functional shutters there, but seeing them always stirred Missouri memories, brief reflections of my life's journey (so far), and a strange longing for the power of a storm.  I thought the constant winter rain of the Pacific Northwest would be cleansing, or at least refreshing, and in many ways it was, but it never succeeded in fully wiping the slate clean. In some ways I think a Midwestern storm can do that, and even if my house had shutters now (which it doesn't), I'm not sure I'd close them in a storm. Unless, of course, it was a tornado. 

photo from morgueFile by lightfoot

shutters

a midwestern-esque storm beats
against the window frame
as if it had shutters
not just wood slats nailed
to non-function

like so much beauty
in suburban homes

wood made old
with sandpaper
blue plates standing far above
the table, and
waxed winter candles
that would be morbid
if burned

i wonder about
the efficiency and defiance of décor

but in this thunder
this pressurizing
teenage garage band practice
i can sleep
envelope words
            would-be emotions
by tucking the down comforter
under my feet.

© Erin Croley

photo from morgueFile by missprint2

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