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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2061379
A Robert Frost kind of poem that I improvised driving home in an afternoon storm.

Summer Torrent

Beneath my awning reposing,

Gray clouds I see swiftly closing.

Rain drops fall, interrupt my dozing.

The roar upon my tin roof growing.

Over my gutters the volume flowing.

Awe struck I remain bestowing;

Praise to nature this payment owing.

Cold wind from the north now blowing.

After image of lightening glowing.

Crashing cannon of thunder bellowing.

The slicing cold ignores my clothing.

I close up the house not knowing;

Just what hell behind the storm is following?

Or if to better shelter I should be going.

All this time, food I’ve been stowing

But from my stores I may be rowing.

No longer do I see the farmer hoeing.

Only now the dam just bowing.

Soon subsides the torment crowing

And to the stream the rain is flowing

And in the field the corn is growing

And in my yard the grass is glowing

And to the storm we all are owing

Our very lives and health bestowing

And humble am I at nature’s fury showing

C. Evan Thompson


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