The Next Tornado

It watches me as I cut the grass

or trim the rose bushes.

If I put out the trash,

it’s there,

under cover of the horizon,

imagining what it can do

with the barrels

once it gets its hands on them.

Even inside the house,

I’m not out of its sight one moment.

It has its eye on my roof.

And the foundations.

Forget the windows.

They’re just target practice.

Same for all my precious possessions,

living or inanimate.

I’m talking a force

that can juggle cows in the air,

uproot trees,

boot trucks from one county to the next.

Its motivations are not clear to me.

Is it born bad like my second cousin?

Or indifferent?

That seems even worse.

Everyone around here

knows that one will someday sweep through here.

But they don’t like to think about it.

Is that the problem?

The air can rapidly rotate in columns.

But it’s as if it never did.

©  John Grey

About the Author

Categories: Featured Writer's

Tags: Creative Talents Unleashed, Featured Writer, poet, writer