Our Storm

Rain upon an old tin roof,
Dust and Dirt
In torrents swirl.
Gleaming steel
Glistens still,
In dusky light,
And fire’s will.
Clouds like rumbling buffalo hooves
Stomp out light,
With white-hot sound.
Leaves and rattling graveyard bones,
Clashing cymbals
Throwing stones.
Wailing banshee
Clawing sky,
Smoke and fire tumble down.
Flashes of waves
Shred the windy shrouds,
Of modern wraiths.
Grey and black fall from under
Shattered mirrors,
Of our fear.