Friday, September 6, 2013

Staring into the Heart of the Supercell

The heat built tall columns into the afternoon
broiling the ground under the heavy air,
lowering curtains of sweat and syrupy sun.

The highway baked under glassy hours
and the air hummed thickly with flying bugs.

Suddenly
the cables
snapped.

A sharp breeze cut shivers,
whipping the sweat from our brows,
tearing the sleeves from our wrists.
Butterflies ripped from tree limbs
were flung darts, torn tickets.

The tall grasses jittered, then blew
then flattened under the palm of the storm.
The trees writhed, a roiling sea of green leaves
whipping frantically, pleading mightily.

We stood and watched the black clouds
sweep across the sky and gather
in an angry curl,
a eyeless behemoth,
the heartless destroyer.




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