Maybe a dust bowl
burning in nature’s airfryer,
it’s not the end,
something’s crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a fire within and without,
a howling wind about,
there’s always another thing
crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a flood, ages of rain
with a tornado as a premium.
Down deep it crouches
crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a landslide
taking a town or two,
it looks big that’s all,
it’s the tiny thing that’s
crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a mental eclipse,
a black out, a white out,
a skyscraper crashing down,
there’s a wisp of a ghost
crawling out of a hole.