Reflections of a Treeplanter

(written June 8, 3:50pm as I lay ill in my tent, trying to sleep in treeplanting camp)

Storm.
fear. Will my tent collapse?
My tarps are being whipped by the wind to their breaking points. Loud.
I was asleep.
Is my shelter adequate?
My eyes grow big as the wind forces my tent into new positions. Twist, bend.
Will it hold up? I am inside--will it collapse upon me? What can I do?
I gingerely move my things + tentmate's things an inch or so away from the tent walls so they don't soak water in.
Electricity flashed and booms.
I see the white light. I feel the Earth and the atmosphere shake around me.
Within me.
The rain pours on my makeshift dryness.
The wind blows, pushing, contorting all that is in its way. Where is the wind trying to go?
All the animals are hiding, now.
The green, the brown suck up the water of Life.
The wind shakes everything.
Which things will survive its force?
Is it the end for those that do not?
Tense. ready. Afraid.
How long will the process take this time?
Anne-Marie's tied sarong waves its tye-dyed body above me, swaying with the leanings of the tent. Swaying with the force of a 2nd-hand wind.
The lightning reminds me of a camera flash.
A picture of power.