2006 by Donna Flood Approaches The Storm
There’s a stillness upon our place
Frozen in movement like before a race
The poplar trees stand at attention.
A breeze their branches shun.
Even the birds are resting low
They hear the thunder and know
Winds and rain with hail
Will pound tin roof and pail.
For now, even the colors are quiet.
Stymied environment lives,
Waiting for what gives.
Are the plants mustering courage
In their stems planting storage
Of shored up strength for wind
Or trying to decide to bend?
Comes the rain in a heavy foggy blanket
Ah blessing upon my hillside who drank it.
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