Prelude to the Storm 

The sun casts its light,

painting the landscape gold.

The deer roam at an easy pace,

their tiny hooves tiptoeing in malleable dirt and grass.

Rabbits spring around in the wispy fields, unblemished by rain or hail.

Birds flutter about, perched on branches and fences.

They chirp, cluck, twitter, and their song

rings through the rural landscape.

The people in their yard lounge in their chairs,

talking about how today’s a perfect day to be outside.

 

Then a chill. Silence.

What was seventy degrees and a sun

soaking into fur, feathers, and skin

is now frigid. The animals still.

Suddenly the wind starts howling.

Tumultuous mountain clouds,

teaming with white sparks,

dye the once cloudless sky black.

The deer flee from the soon-to-be battlefield for the bolts and hail.

Rabbits dive into thicket bushes and scurry into their burrows

until the ice bullets and cold drops can’t reach them.

Birds peep once and then scatter to the trees

to hide under their umbrella leaves.

The people cram their chairs into their wooden shed,

race their cars into their metal garage,

hurry inside their centuries-old house,

and then lock their doors and pull their curtains shut.

 

The world of animals and plants stops as

the first thunder booms and the first lightning strike cracks.