Tornado

Darkness looming above heavy skies soon to be drenched by falling stones.
Claps of anger, flashes of light grabbing the attention of distracted adolescents.
Youth interrupted.
Silence.
Can you hear it?
But for the ticking clock and racing heart, nothing.
Pressure rising, lights flickering, confusion mounting.
Run!
Safety lurking beneath a mattress, beside a wall.
The howling train not held back,
We grasped at straws that were each other.
And then,
Nothing.
Rising, knees crumpled and weak, to make sense
Of the interruption of the day.
Looking,
Searching,
All was fine and yet,
Not.
Lives unknown to us lost while
We kept our own.
Relief?
Yes, for now.
Until the storm rises up again and we,
Once more,
Cling to what lasts.

London Fog

Frustrated rays
Punch holes through stubborn fog
As eggplant skies with girlish hues
Embrace
Majestic towers rise tenaciously
Above fog and sun
Shadows become reflections
In distant waters
Tension, discord
Beauty

Spring in Nebraska

You can see children playing
Not knowing the inevitability of
Growing up
And brightly hued tulips
And daffodils
And carpets of shy grass
And flying things
Cotton taking flight
As weeds become wishes
You can see the old dirt roads
Where bikes carry renewed spirits
Through silence
Interrupted only by the music of a red-winged blackbird
Along endless mazes of corn and corn
Because it's spring in Nebraska.

The Path

A fountain of light
Upon silent stone and shadow
Reaching through
Paths of gray bringing dust to life
As fairies catch
Their first breath
Of spring and resurrection.