A tornado is on its way...
I watch as the sky darkens
The clear sky of morning is gone.
A greenish tinge turns the clouds to a sinister hue
And the wind dies down
An eerie stillness settles
No birdsong can be heard.
It is as if life has left
It is our turn to hunker down.
A storm is coming;
And not one that flashes and bangs,
This one roars.
It barrels down like a freight train
Ripping buildings from their moorings
Throwing everything not nailed down;
Destruction is the game it plays
And it is vindictive.
Like an angry child releasing its vengeance
Nothing is safe from its fury.
We take cover
Hide out in burrows
Dug deep within the ground
A small secure space to wait out the blast
Only emerging when the quiet returns
And our eyes behold
Mother nature's wrath.
Lines = 25,
Writer's Cramp ▼