I repeatedly dream of tornadoes,
Which I have come,
To expect as,
a dream trigger.
There is nothing more scenic,
then driving up,
an Appalachian road,
In the beginning of spring,
To get a view,
Of the surrounding landscape.
For the dead of winter,
Is slowly giving way,
To patches of green,
On the valley floor,
And the spring blossoms,
have just begun.
The sky is blue,
on this meandering road,
that hypnotically paralyzes the mind,
with a sense of hope,
Of the future,
Higher and higher,
I drive,
As a brisk breeze,
Picks up,
And I soak in the beauty,
But the roads summit,
I jam the breaks,
And glance below,
For a storm system,
was tucked away,
in the opposing valley,
Swirling,
I can't see the tornado,
But i know its there heading,
This way,
The breeze picks up,
As trees start to fall,
Trapping myself in the car.
I get out and race down,
The mountain side,
Looking for a place to shelter,
And find a dell,
I reach the lowest point,
Crouch down,
grab my head,
And realize I'm dreaming.
No comments:
Post a Comment