Thunder echoes.
Flashes through billions
Of hailstones smashing against
Trees, leaving clouds of
Crushed leaves hanging, slowly
Blending into the chaos of
Angry weather, then: Nothing.
I worry for my windows,
Pounded with ice and shaking
From relentless thunder.
Nature, now, is an angry
Woman,
Child, heirloom or love stolen.
Furious fire, skies dark with a
Thousand wings.
Drop your swords and run,
Men. Your homes are in
Flames. Your armours as
Useless as your wet pairs of
Long johns.