A free verse poem about a thunderstorm. |
A line of green marred with splotches of yellow and red marching across the area weather map in the corner of the TV screen first heralds the impending violent confrontation. Like flashes of enemy artillery silently lighting up the far horizon for brief instances during war, the distant, constant lightning signals the approaching battle – Man versus Nature. Closer grow the flashes, now accompanied by a deep, guttural rumbling of thunder. Closer ... closer.. .a sense of dread now hangs in the air. Suddenly, sheets of rain sweep in, mixed with hail pelting down upon the green lawn like white nickels, noisily pounding on the roof. The wind arrives, gusting strongly... stronger yet ... whipping the trees into frenzied dances to and fro, until it seems beyond their capacity to endure the strain much longer. Leaves and small branches fly through the air, litter the ground. The intensity of wind and rain, with lightning strobe following lightning strobe – their nearness measured by sharp crack or by long rumble – cause brave dogs and wise men to cower and whimper, each insignificant before the power Nature has unleashed upon them. The lights flicker ... flicker ... then off goes the electricity. Now they can but wait powerlessly in the darkness, meekly hoping to escape unharmed, undamaged. After twenty minutes more of rage, the thunderstorm slowly withdraws, leaving a trail of debris and downed limbs from broken trees in its wake. Its distant, constant lightning flashes now seemingly say, “I give back control of your world... until I choose to visit once again.” Man and beast alike breathe a sigh of relief at having outlasted the storm. Please check out my ten books: http://www.amazon.com/Jr.-Harry-E.-Gilleland/e/B004SVLY02/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 |