Storm on the Island
We are prepared: we build our houses squat,Sink walls in rock and roof them with good slate.The wizened earth had never troubled usWith hay, so as you can see, there are no stacksOr stooks that can be lost. Nor are there treesWhich might prove company when it blows fullBlast: you know what I mean - leaves and branchesCan raise a chorus in a galeSo that you can listen to the thing you fearForgetting that it pummels your house too.But there are no trees, no natural shelter.You might think that the sea is company,Exploding comfortably down on the cliffsBut no: when it begins, the flung spray hitsThe very windows, spits like a tame catTurned savage. We just sit tight while wind divesAnd strafes invisibly. Space is a salvo.We are bombarded by the empty air.Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear.
Vocabulary
| Words | Description |
|---|---|
| wizened (line 3) | dried up, shrivelled |
| stacks / stooks (lines 4/5) | haystacks / shocks of corn sheaves |
| strafes (line 17) | bombards, harasses with artillery shells |
| salvo (line 17) | simultaneous firing of artillery |
