Raining Cats And Dogs Poem by Julie Bond

Thunder purrs its way across the state
and I lie low and wonder if the gable
will hold fast to its nails. The cats berate
me from the dusty cellar. But on cable
storms sweep in red. Too soon the water table
will swamp the basement. We'll all bob along
like hairy apples listening to the song
of cyclone sirens hurling warnings down,
then choose the elements where we belong:
they'll die within the wind; I'll, winded, drown.