Assume Nothing of Storms

For an hour Cicadas saw at the early August evening While thunder purrs as kittens In the yarn of dark clouds balled up out west over Ionia County Trees prepare their umbrellas The Tigers on TV swing away in the 3rd inning A good book in hand Then out of hand A den of lions-wind roars outside our patio window Devours the screens I jump back House turns black And our 100-year old standing friends Just like that Break in half no more than the unlucky draw of straws While others are plucked like Hedgehog mushrooms All thrown down At dawn Sunlight strikes of leftover lightning Flashes through new holes punched in the canopy I hadn’t seen the sky in my backyard for decades But there it is Claw marks across the laid-down lambs on forest floor And upon the beast of me who lies beside them.