Storm

The wind howls to me. It was 9:03. I could hear thunder. I don’t want anything to hide under. I don’t want to avoid the thrill. The sky has its own twisted will. I wish I was able to hold an empty glass. So it can crack and shatter all over the grass. This day of harsh weather. Pulls at reality’s tether. They lost what they lost. Insurance couldn’t cover the cost. The town is a little emptier. They said they’d rebuild in September. My old barn will be demolished. This empty barn with no light switch. This old, haunted place. This old, worn space. When the workers came. They tore through my shame. This place which was my home for 100 years. This place where I scared teenagers. Storms are deadly, storms can cause harm. But for me, it was a way off this abandoned farm.