The Storm

Gray clouds
running from wind
in a panic,
eager to escape.

Gathering their courage,
forming anvil shaped
prayers reaching
towards the gods
to spare them.

Bolts of lightning
rain down on the earth,
spearing the wind’s breast.

With roar s of thunderous agony,
bleeding watery tears,
The wind dies.

Mary Cody has been writing poetry and short stories the past two years while taking part in a local Writers Group hosted at her local library in Guilderland, NY. She is retired from two career paths, the first as an Electrical Engineer and the second as a Doctor of Clinical Nutrition.

Find more by Mary E Cody in the Author Index.

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