Hail poem

NOT ANGRY

 

like oak pollen

fuzzy yellow lies

line the branches

 

until

 

hail hits

hail the size of softballs

smashes every north-facing window

drives us deep indoors

grapefruit-sized hail rids what we cannot reach

grabs the truth and hurls it headlong

 

I’m not angry. A good spring hailstorm knows

when it’s needed.

Comments

  1. A good spring clean…

  2. Oops…i messed up my blog address …
    All better now.

  3. Holy cow, Megan. This is grand. And so right on. LOVE YOU.

  4. You weren’t kidding when you said you had to watch out for rain…

    Feeling as cold and tightly wrapped as one of those icy balls after reading this, though. Praying for a quick melt…a gentle patter.

  5. We watched the hail fall from our seats by the fireplace in Panera. The sun was shining at the same time, and a rainbow rose up from the pavement, along with a bit of steam. Temperamental.

  6. Oh, wow! Wow.

  7. good job i luv this poem

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