Tornado

Horribly horrific, terribly terrific,
The tempestuous fury that twist through the sky.
Clouds churn—turn relentless, in sorrow prolific,
All-while wild winds with water clash—crash and collide.

The grove stands silent—solemn, the hermit bemused,
By reverberations that rip—ripple and fade.
All-while Tornado sirens and rains inter-fused,
A birth pale—pallid—appalling, grandly displayed.

Good Lord Save! Pole lines flare in a blaze of fierce spark,
Dear Jesus! Fearsome beauty, yet ruthless in flame.
God help us! Debris’s perfume—burnt rubber, skies dark—
Heaven weeps—inglorious fumes, sorrowful claim.

All-while surge vocalizations with somber refrains,
Leaves shatter loudly the glass in splintering flight.
The clouds swirl their lament through the modified plains,
Winds sing horribly sick in the gathering night.

Sadly death cries descend in a crimson embrace,
As the lawn lies broken in unwholesome distress.
Its tragedy magnified as seen from space,
all alone in quivering nightmarish mess.

When light finally alters, the dim—pallor profound,
The plain lies forsaken, the sky turned ghostly gray.
A terribly terrorific stillness is found,
As silence devours apparitions of day.

How horribly horrific, this terrible fright,
The clouds descending through the sick—sorrowful debris.
Yet though all this seems shattered and lost in the night,
All this shall rise once again with new industry.