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
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