February 2, 2011
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Rain pounds
Against the sides of my house,
Attacking our roof,
Bringing with it the stench
Of floods and slime.

Storm clouds,
Black as death,
Envelop the moon
In their smoky embrace.

And with the crack
Of an unearthly whip,
A sword of lightning
Slashes the sky in two.

In my garden,
Those begonias that I
Tirelessly planted and cared for,
My children - wallow in three inch mud,
Their purple faces filthy and forlorn,
Petals drooping in misery,
Caught in the crossfire of land and sky.

The house is under siege, surrounded by
Mud, lightning, rain.
Drumbeats on our metal roof,
And in another flash, all goes dark, silent, except for the
Rolls of thunder,
Lightning cracks like gunshot,
The relentless marching of rain

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