Saturday Storm

A poem of anticipation

Image by Author

Waiting for the first

Drops

As the cry of wind

Ebbs and flows, rising in

Pitch

The sun conceding to

The darkness

A table cluttered with supplies

Purse, jacket, chargers, leash

Ready for a quick exit

At the wailing sound of the

Siren

Hoping for a reprieve

From the angry oranges and reds

That ominously pulse along the

Radar

But preparing for the twisting air

So familiar to our corner of

The world

Cracking sounds as twigs

Relent to the impending force

As stronger branches

Resist

The tiny clatter

Of puppy paws

Alerts us of the growing pressure

Even before the

Weatherman

Prayers are spoken for protection

From the worst of weather’s wrath

For fascination with severe convection

And growing lift

And hooked rotation

Are only truly fascinating

In theory

In practice

Safety is the preferred

Reality