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- 2005
TORNADO:
Quiet the day, clear the sky,
Winds stir up, something high?
My roof, a drum, roars over me,
A rain of hail-stones falling free.
Crackling staccato, my window's hammered,
Across my lawn, dance stones & clamor.
We drop our work, to center - cluster.
Attentive - Alert, courage we muster. . .
Winds like gales bend the trees,
Lord, save us, the hail the breeze.
How quick it rose, yet soon subside.
Freed from tomb, we step outside.
A resurrection to be alive,
the world transformed - most all survive.
Sunshine glistens through shimmering leaves,
Raindrops drip from ravaged trees.
Upturned leaves, atop the grass,
a motley carpet, - a sight aghast.
Some trees whole, whole trees torn,
He picks which, a sight forlorn. . .
Dominoes fallen, 3 in a line,
Great tall oaks show storm's spline.
5 foot round, a stick to the Lord,
for laboring man, years to restore.
Two years before, we'd storm similar.
Two oaks fell in line perpendicular.
Our land is crossed by mark of scar,
Swats of destruction, born from afar.
The paths of storm's, two lines intersect.
By what chance, Who'd suspect?
-Ted Elden (of June '98 storm through estate)
Quiet the day, clear the sky,
Winds stir up, something high?
My roof, a drum, roars over me,
A rain of hail-stones falling free.
Crackling staccato, my window's hammered,
Across my lawn, dance stones & clamor.
We drop our work, to center - cluster.
Attentive - Alert, courage we muster. . .
Winds like gales bend the trees,
Lord, save us, the hail the breeze.
How quick it rose, yet soon subside.
Freed from tomb, we step outside.
A resurrection to be alive,
the world transformed - most all survive.
Sunshine glistens through shimmering leaves,
Raindrops drip from ravaged trees.
Upturned leaves, atop the grass,
a motley carpet, - a sight aghast.
Some trees whole, whole trees torn,
He picks which, a sight forlorn. . .
Dominoes fallen, 3 in a line,
Great tall oaks show storm's spline.
5 foot round, a stick to the Lord,
for laboring man, years to restore.
Two years before, we'd storm similar.
Two oaks fell in line perpendicular.
Our land is crossed by mark of scar,
Swats of destruction, born from afar.
The paths of storm's, two lines intersect.
By what chance, Who'd suspect?
-Ted Elden (of June '98 storm through estate)
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