Millet, Jean-François. Retreat from the Storm. Circa 1846, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Mid-storm Landscape (in which I’ve Grown Roots)
The storm throws hail against windows and affirms
my fear of summer: that something hungry climbs
in the new green, that what’s tender heralds
destruction. Blossoms shatter, branches snap etc.
A few hours ago, we sat outdoors to be glad
with every singing thing—the lilac’s scent,
the birds’ trill, the ephemeral drama of clouds:
a rapid drift to conceal the sun, then reveal it,
the sky dull, then luminous. Distracted
from my book by the sad itch of Sunday dusk,
I watched the dog listen—his ears twitching
and tuned to the distant bark of another dog,
the first low summons of thunder. You’ve settled,
my sister said, stopped running, and she was right;
I no longer strive for some other self, the person
I might be outside the hometown I found
myself forced by circumstance to return to—
circumstance: a hedge for fate. Now I’ve met
my fuck-it moment and grown roots, raised
the stakes of memory in this place, realized
never settle is an absurd motto for anyone
who writes; every word’s a compromise
between realms, generations. Her voice echoes
as I secure my windows, study the wild
pattern of rain. Decisions make themselves
in this kind of weather, I know and number
the miles between flare and crash.
Ceridwen Hall is a poet and educator. Her books include Acoustic Shadows (Broadstone Books) and The School for Danger and Other Studies (forthcoming in 2026). Her work has appeared in TriQuarterly, Pembroke Magazine, The Cincinnati Review, Craft, Poet Lore, and other journals. She publishes Field Notes: biweekly inspiration for writing and well-being. Find her at www.ceridwenhall.com.
Millet, Jean-François. Retreat from the Storm. Circa 1846, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
High Horse 