Rainstorm
The desperate trees, lighting bolts
Against the grayness
Of the approaching storm
Spilling onto the horizon,
Like wild mustangs
Racing across the waving prairies
Their galloping hoofs becoming
Rolling peals of thunder.
Rain like a soaking sheet
Hanging from a clothesline,
Drags across farmers’ fields
And yellow raincoats dash over the soggy earth
Towards home.
Now, dripping raincoats
Are hanging behind the door
As cold hands are warmed
Before crackling flames.
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