Thursday, October 21, 2010

My Tornado

The thing about tornadoes is
They were not meant to be kept
As pets.
There is no jar or bowl or box or pen
That can hold one.
I cannot attach mine
To a leash and lead him
Instead he blows up wild
And lashes out violent
And no matter how I try
To curb his wind,
He continues to spin.
His gray fury astounds me, 
After the relative peace
of a stormless day.
Dust in my eyes
And debris flying by,
And something tells me this ride
Will not end in Oz,
With a yellow brick road
And a good witch in a bubble
Floating down.
Round and round and round he goes
And where he will stop
God only knows,
But somehow I have to tame him.
Somehow I have to harness
The wild wind and the flying house
That threatens to blow us away.


For Haydn, per his request


  1. Dear Heather, how descriptive and how challenging! Bless your sweet family - tornado and all!


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