It’s just a noisy storm they said.

But I saw the giant lying dead

across the street, his arms outspread

to hold the bit of earth he’d guarded.

They told me not to be afraid.

There must have been decay they said.

But I saw them chip away his head

And scatter him in the garden bed,

Burying all evidence against the murderous wind.

© 2011 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved