Athena, Holding Your Hair, Whispering In Your Ear

For me a few are enough, one is enough, none is enough. This is not for the many, but for you. We are audience enough for each other.

The gale came howling off the hills.
Old ash trees folded over, bent,
while others (bored by beetles) fell.
She slept on in her tent.

Then quicker than it takes to say,
the storm pulled every stake.
My tent and baby blew away
and she not yet awake!

By grace I grabbed it, pulled it down,
unzipped, and stole her back.
She wobbled there in her night gown,
nonplussed by wind's attack.

We hiked home through the woods by night,
She holding Stella, I the light.