Storm country.

He toiled, he labored
beads rolled down his dark tresses.
sinews strained, sun darkened his skin…
he built his house, brick by brick…

As he put up his white picket fence,
a flash of light, he gazed at the horizon, his face tense
and heard the faint roar from bolt just past…
the sky turned frm blue to gray, then all went dark.

He gazed at his house, then at the dark beast,
his house seemed to be the feast.
Oh why, oh why did he build again,
where not long ago the beast had fed?

This entry was posted in Poems and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Storm country.

  1. AA says:

    Beautiful imagery

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