Leadership

One person in a large room
Rocking up and back
In an oversized chair
The sound of rain
Outside the window
Gusty breezes making
High-pitched noises
Human life has gone
Indoors for the approaching evening
On the table is a cup of tea
And on the lap of the person
Is an afghan
In her hands is a book
Occasionally she sips the tea
But mostly she rocks and reads
The room is warm
The windows are tightly sealed
Against the bitter cold
Insulation is several inches thick
The person would need to
Open a door or window to
Even hear the bluster
The lighting is overhead
Supported by a shoulder high floor lamp
A voice from somewhere
Inside the house speaks
“Are you comfortable my dear?”
and the person in the chair
just rocks up and back
and smiles…
“Yes, thank you” is
the soft reply
As we withdraw from
Our close vantage point
Up, up into the clouds
Farther and farther until
We near the edge of earth’s
Atmosphere
Our attention stays
On the spot where the house
Must be
It’s not pangea
Not Africa
Not the middle east
From our distance
We can see a smoke begin
To rise from the area
Where the person with
A book under a blanket
Sat so peacefully
And we wonder
Did something take place there?
Something disruptive?
Are we watching the end of tranquility?
Is our person out of her chair
And into the streets
Calling out to those slumbering
Behind protective walls
“Trouble is at hand?”