Awake during a heavy storm

Wind on walls like a kettle drum
And rain on the streets is peaked
Like waves
raging static on the windows
Hurling all the water of my life
Around this little house
jersey lake cold and miami sea warm
And water that rushed over rocks where I sat with my father somewhere between camp and home.
There's old tornado dreams awake in me
under this storm: a sky ten different colors, borrowed memories seething.
Outside somewhere a boatswain's crying "get below" as his shipping boat sinks under lake michigan.
Prospero's in the pines somewhere
And if I ever had a miranda,
I'm Caliban to her now.
Whales are breaching west of the Devil's Punchbowl and their spray's got rainbows in it.
If I sleep I'll wake in the mud where we used to grow vegetables,
I'll find all my lost things, toys and letters, half buried round me,
and the house gone to Oz without me.
Or I'll dream of you, storm-soaked howling eyes wide beckoning
And I'll sit up startled panicked wondering where you've gone