Christine Phillips Poet Prose Poetry

The Chilling Winter Storm

Dark clouds fill the horizon. 
sweeping through the sky 
like soldiers going to battle,
layers and layers of clouds 
spreading all around hunkering
 in th ground where destiny is bound, 
I can feel the wind chill in my back.
and the mad trees running around in the breeze.
and the deer’s looking for shelter underneath the bridge.
the horses and the mules are looking confused. 
 and they escape to higher ground.
the mad wind sets in ripping off roofs.
rooting up trees, smashing cars 
and breaking down barricade doors
it dumps tons of water onto waste land.
flooding roads, villages and town
forcing the people to leave their homes.
and shelter in the railway town
and over in the other State a white
mountain stood boldly at the gate, 
but there was no one to make the snow man.
Christmas has come and gone. 
and the children were not playing on the lawn.
 and the thick snow began to 
grow and the wild wind began to blow.
you told me that it was winter. 
when I will have a decent supper
when the water receded
 and the snow melts
 and they bury all the dead.
the exodus will begin.

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