Some fear its great power.
When it comes in the darkest hour.
It arrives in silence
and sadly it unloads grief onto the world,
shouting and causing noise.
Fear creeps into children, among others.
Parents and people alike say it’s nothing. . .
nothing to be frightened of.
But they are scared as well.
I sit on my porch and listen to the stories
that pour from the dark sky.
Now it goes away, moving on with a clamor.
Onto the next place, it grows quiet, creeping up
to scare the other towns close by.
I go inside, done listening for today.
Now I wait for the next storm to have a story,
a story worth hearing as the rain falls.
I really like this poem I wrote.
