The Storm

It’s a bright and sunny day With a slight breeze Then dark storm clouds brew Flickering with light Rumbling with thunder They approach swiftly, the storm nearing. People glance up Sensing that something is different About this storm A thing never seen by man living here Danger unparalleled in the past The storm begins its rage. Rain falls, falling up to fifteen inches Thunder booms louder than a jumbo jet Lightning blinds us, brilliantly bright Sparking fires The wind picks up, roaring As the storms ferocity increases. We glance fearfully outside the window to see Clouds of odd colors, a greenish-yellow Oppressively close, heavy If what I remember is right; if what I read is valid—we are in very deep trouble As the wind howls and the storm clouds churn. In an instant I glance toward the sky again And I know; some gut instinct confirms my fear I tell my family and my friends what I know They scramble downstairs, screaming and terrified Of Mother Nature’s most dangerous child The storm is all around us as we wait. The tornado descends as we’re barricaded in The basement, our sanctuary For hours—minutes—millennia we huddle together Crying, praying as one group Then the wind ceases and slowly we Emerge, staring at the razed houses the storm left It’s been a year since the Great Storm We’re rebuilding our homes, our communities, our lives Recovering from the storm we can never forget.