THE STORM’S EYES

Tornado you seek
The darkness
I feel weak ..
The skies in complete blackness
Your power I’ll see all week.

Clouds move like spilled ink
On a grey canvas
That I left to streak
Brushing with slugs
As an artist, you can’t peek.

My art smears as the storm claims
Bold dark colors
Watch how it fades
I’m happy my dear brothers
I only love it when it rains ….

Drizzle and sprinkle on my head
I love it’s cool caress
As heavens bless me while the world is put in bed.
Makes my sleepy self forget my stress
I’ll go bake some banana dessert instead.

The ditch fills to welcome crawfish
I wonder how they would taste?
Would they be considered a great dish?
Or a chefs mishmash waste?
Not what I want or wish…

If I could read a book to the tornado
Would it calm down ?
Or clash it’s winds at me with a blow?
Throwing me like a ragdoll to the ground
Only God would know….

It’s a beautiful dark wet night
Crickets chirp as frogs croak
It’s the perfect orchestra outside
Just listening to their soak.
They welcome you to come say hi

Listening to its thunder
Seriously makes me wonder…
Are the angels bowling
Or clashing each other?
A mystery to be thinking….