Low dark ominous clouds
give the air an electric tingle
announcing imminent danger.
Cool puffs of wind part the dry heat
carrying a raindrop or two
of the raging hordes
that will soon follow.
The winds increase
enraptured by the coolness on my face
I rip off my shirt
remembering my youth
I spread my wings
pretending to fly.
The angry maelstrom comes
glorious in its raw power
thunder roars as a pride of arguing gods
lightning dances across the dark sky
wind whips like a rejected lover’s fury
and stinging rain bites like bullet ants.
I fall back to the front porch
chased by dead and decaying leaves
whistling in the wind
and stinging rain missiles.
Chains strain to hold
the madly twisting porch swing
potted plants fall from their hooks
windows rattle in protest
in the yard beside my work truck
a large walnut branch smacks the earth.
This fall thunderstorm
has me feeling alive
yet small and insignificant.
I pet my ol hound dog
before we step inside
he thumps his red and white tail twice
and settles down with a sigh.
© D.B. Hall
Excerpt from the book Pebbles in the Stream
About the Author
David Hall was born in a small town called Mount Airy (A.K.A Mayberry) nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains which are part of the large Appalachian Mountain chain. His early life involved a lot of traveling with his missionary parents, which involved stints of living in Mexico and Bolivia. His poetry reflects a love for nature and life mixed with a sense of the rustic Americana spirit and sprinkled with a lingering sense of the spiritual guidance infused by his southern religious upbringing. David has always been able to live in the moment enjoying it to the fullest while being able to be separated within himself seeking something more. Poetry is one of those outlets that gives him that something more. The diversity of genres and endless array of topics allow him to dive into poetry with reckless abandon or with fine-tuned precision; whichever is needed. Like a prism there are many sides of David, from the emotional connections when dealing with death, to the touch of the spring breeze on your neck hairs, David’s poetry can put you there.
Visit David’s Author Page At: www.ctupublishinggroup.com/d.b.-hall.html