A bang, a clang of lightning, rang
out over the
crash, smash, bash
of the oak branches in the
whistling, bristling
wind. With a
screech, a beech
fell over a well. The air smelled of
scorched, torched porch
as the house burst into
flame. Blame the same flame
shooting through the
sky. Trees die, lie
on the ground round the dog pound.
Dogs
howl, growl, how
the noise annoys the boy's
sleep. It keeps
ripping, snipping, clipping
their dreams until
awake. Breaks
the silence of the glade. Boys are afraid
of white, bright, light
and the loud cloud shrouds
the night. Sight of sudden flight
of birds, heard through words
of comfort and
joy for the boys,
from the
mother wishing to smother the brother's
smears of tears, fears, and
fright from bright, white lightning.

Lindsey Milton 1994

[ Back ] [ Poetry ] [ Home ] [ Adoption ] [ Next ]