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Tremble Storm

By , Blue Mounds, WI

Light flashes,
illuminating the chilled face
of the young girl
sitting next to me.

Although the harsh storm
was roaring and rising,
she continued to doze off.
She looked like a bobber
on a fishing pole.

It was
sixty degrees,
a cool spring night.

The street was filled
with pebbles,
and the houses that lined the streets
were darker than
the depths of an ocean.

She awoke,
a confused look upon her face.
She thought I had
two heads.
We arrived at home, and
we watched the storms
through the windshield,
water washing away her worries.

Lightning suddenly striped the sky,
and we waited,
counting:
one, two, three.

Thunder shook
the entirety of the car.
We were small mice
in a room full of cats.
Although we ran quickly,
water still dripped from our clothes;
we were still drenched.

We laughed--
we were still trembling--
and I clutched her wrist,
shocked by the next
light flash.






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