The Storm Poem by Alex Garr

The Storm



The golden light from the sun
Is blocked out by
Thunderheads rolling in from the west.
Bison grazing on the
Endless sea of grass
Look up at the sudden gloom.
Even the hunting hyenas
Stop to look.

Without warning the bison charge.
The earth trembles under
Their hooves. They stampede across
The plains, trampling the stalks of grass;
Plowing headlong through the prairies
Without any care for the young.
Hyenas scramble away
On nimble feet.
A flock of startled quail
Madly flap their wings
As they try to escape the
Demented herd.

A blast of wind
Races across the plains,
Pushing the animals even harder.
The grass is flattened
Under the force.
Soon comes the true fury.

The sky darkens,
A black blanket
Soon envelops the heavens,
Darker even than the
Deepest pits of Hell.
Nature’s wrath is unleashed.

A sheet of rain plummets
To Earth. The torrent is
Like a glass wall
As it advances.
Lighting cracks across the sky
As Zeus hurls bolts from
The Elysian Fields.
A roar follows seconds after
As if let loose
From the throat of
A tortured giant.
Fire is ignited but
Quickly extinguished
From the never-ending rain.

All of the animals
Are soon engulfed
In the maelstrom.
They no longer run.
Now they just huddle together,
Waiting for the storm to pass.

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