Storms

When I was little and my world was small, I had a fascination with island storms’ call. As moist hot air ascends the skies and dark clouds form, I grab my storybooks and set up my dorm. Dorothy had Toto; I will have my brown book For I never know what will happen to my nook. While my folks prepare for the uninvited visitor; I hardly mind, rather I get ready for pleasure. Before the wind blows and the rain falls; Grandma would serve meals and fill our bowls; Lest it will be cold and tastes no good; When darkness hit our humble abode. Light(e)ning forks spread the cloudless skies; Draw vivid images and emotions high; I wonder then Noah was calm! For us, children, we'd shriek and run! When the breeze starts to whisper a humming cry, We would start to gather ‘round father and sigh; It is a cue for a tale to be told And Pa always has stories untold, Trees swirl, sending gusts whimper against the pane; Violent waves tossed Crusoe’s ship to our brain. Storms make stories in its marvelous form; Stories birth silence and awe midst a storm; As the wind howls in the stormy night, Stories, like pray’r, make us feel alright. 6/30/2014