A Storm

I can see it in the distance, deliberately mocking my claim.
A calmness comes over the land as its rooted nerves begin to cool,
The storm tightens it coils while it sees its foil is preparing.
There is no use in praying as the storms is above sparing
Besides, my family and house have stayed safe several storms before.

But unease still creeps into my stomach as I wait to sit out the foreboding giant.
My family’s in bed, crowded into the same room gathering strength from gathered fear
And I secretly hope that all Hell steers clear,
But everything outside knows that won’t happen.

I grab the paper and sit in the rocking chair in the corner as it all begins:

The wind blows waves in the fields of golden grain,
And as the sky melts to darker shades of desperate blues and grays
Shutters on an old, weathered house bang a beat to the thunder’s moan
While the air gets thicker as the shrill whisper of the wind grows.

I try to read the paper and rock in the corner as it all begins.