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The Storm

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Stalking the county its prey,
In the moist warm evening of May,
The mighty beast thunders its murderous howl,
A challenge to men who fear its growl.
The drool rains down for the time is near
A time all children and some men do fear.
Few if any remain outside
Seeking security, they attempt to hide
Flash bang boom the monster roars
A wolf which can’t be slain by sword.
Perhaps one day we’ll tame the beast
But for now it hunts, the land its feast.





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Carlos-Concussion said...
Mar. 21, 2011 at 7:04 pm
I am amazed by the skill level of your writing!
 
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