Season of Storms

Season of Storms

Thunder rumbles across the darkened
sky as storms rage from every direction.
My house is in imminent danger,
and my strength, I fear, is waning.

As I strain to mend the leaky roof,
ravaging winds tear the tiles from my hands.
I'm determined to nail the boards back in place,
but they are far too rickety and rotten.

Shutters have blown from their rusty hinges.
The tempest howls through the cracks in the walls.
Doors rattle as the storm breaches our safety.
I cannot withstand these assaults much longer.

The floor creaks and sags beneath my feet,
the boards wobbly and untrustworthy.
Its swaying and moaning leave me nauseous.
How alluring the tranquility of death becomes.

Surely this season of storms will soon pass,
and I will see the bright sun through the breaking clouds.
Cold and weak from the darkness surrounding me,
I yearn for the healing warmth of the sun.

If only the winds would stop their raging,
perhaps I could repair the house,
set things right again; find some peace and calm assurance.
If only the storm would cease... for just a little while.


Pat Nelson
July 25, 2008

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