n the dark  fields
the night is silent
there is no sound
not even from the tawny owl
flitting through the trees

Then like a child’s blizzards toy
the swirling tornado forms
the black shape grows
increasing in strength

It ***** up corn
like a giant hoover
then spits it out
as if it tasted bad

Then throwing trees
like a child at play
destroying the fence
destroying the barns

Cars like toys are thrown
to the sound of smashing glass
the lamp posts snap
like wooden match sticks

The tornado slows
as though tired
it then disappears
the town can rest again