My Bloganuary prompt yesterday, January 7, 2023, was to write a short story or poem about rain. I tried a poem, but it didn’t seem to work, so I wrote Rogue Storm. Today after writing and publishing Ancestry: Myth, Rumor, Darkness, singing in the choir at church, and driving to my daughters to have a late Christmas lunch for a grandson and his fiancée, I returned home to collapse on the couch and watch the Dallas Cowboys play football as if they’d never taken the field before.
After a long day, a Dallas game that should make them ashamed to be seen in public, I had to try to do something different. So, I tackled yesterday’s prompt again. The result is below.
The storm approached on legs of light,
They flashed, they pulled, what a sight!
The rain came as a gentle mist,
It touched my face, the lightest kiss.
Then the wind raised the bar,
It opened the clouds, revealing a star.
The legs turned nasty and began to flash,
The light still came, now with a crash.
The wind, it swirled, the mist it thickened,
The droplets grew, and their speed quickened.
The storm grew stronger, dimming the light,
The drops grew cold, beginning to bite.
I stood there watching and praying a bit,
Hoping the rain was the worst it would get.
© oneoldcop.com 2023