TORNADO WEATHER
by Vincent Wixon
1.
Clouds build all day,
hold west of the section.
Plowing east he feels them
piling darker, deeper.
1.
Clouds build all day,
hold west of the section.
Plowing east he feels them
piling darker, deeper.
(read the whole poem at The Writer's Almanac)
TORNADO WEATHER describes the lead-up to the storm -- the sudden change of temperature. The first stinging raindrops. The greenish sky. Violet Nesdoly's amazing extended haiku LIGHTNING (from Poetry Friday last week) describes what it feels like to be in the middle of the lashing, flashing storm.
Last Friday morning, we had no inkling of the storm that would barrel down on us later that afternoon, ripping mature trees out of the ground and breaking smaller trees off like matchsticks.
Our house was only without power for 72 hours. I got an email from a friend whose service was restored last night at 11:00, after 7 DAYS without power. I'm sure there are still folks without power, or who, like our neighbor who lost his home when a tree fell on it, felt their lives veer suddenly in a new direction last Friday.
Here's the weirdest thing about this Poetry Friday post. I started this post last Thursday, intending to use a picture of an Eastern Colorado storm and the story of chasing it. Then I got distracted by the Wordle revision fun and set this post aside for later use. So was there really no inkling of the storm, or???
Tabatha has today's Poetry Friday roundup at The Opposite of Indifference.
TORNADO WEATHER describes the lead-up to the storm -- the sudden change of temperature. The first stinging raindrops. The greenish sky. Violet Nesdoly's amazing extended haiku LIGHTNING (from Poetry Friday last week) describes what it feels like to be in the middle of the lashing, flashing storm.
Last Friday morning, we had no inkling of the storm that would barrel down on us later that afternoon, ripping mature trees out of the ground and breaking smaller trees off like matchsticks.
Our house was only without power for 72 hours. I got an email from a friend whose service was restored last night at 11:00, after 7 DAYS without power. I'm sure there are still folks without power, or who, like our neighbor who lost his home when a tree fell on it, felt their lives veer suddenly in a new direction last Friday.
Here's the weirdest thing about this Poetry Friday post. I started this post last Thursday, intending to use a picture of an Eastern Colorado storm and the story of chasing it. Then I got distracted by the Wordle revision fun and set this post aside for later use. So was there really no inkling of the storm, or???
Tabatha has today's Poetry Friday roundup at The Opposite of Indifference.
