|Storm Clouds Rolling In, Roland Folse|
storm clouds rolling in
it's a late afternoon,
between April and June,
prime time for dramatic weather.
the prairie's vastness is
by storm clouds
on powerful winds.
the green fields are supernaturally luminous in the
frightful sallow light
of the impending thunderstorm;
cumulonimbus clouds move slowly but
arrive too fast --
great gray angry giants shouldering each other,
vying for the sinister pleasure
of raining destruction.
in an inside room away from windows
I huddle with The Dog
(absent proof that hell may soon be loosed, the fearless cats still snooze on window sills).
my painstakingly crafted agenda
is suspended in negative ions.
I can only wait
for mesocyclone and tornado watch --
or warning --
until the squall line passes
and I'm sure again I have a safe place
in which to pursue my
yet ultimately insignificant tasks.