- by Linn Barnes
Before the Flood 2
The rain has collapsed the sky,
the river is bellowing below us,
the woods are sagging, clumped over
exhausted dancers, with no respite,
soaking a torrent down the ridge.
Small creatures will be driven from the safety
of their nests by the coming hostile assault
to a watery death while grasping for roots
and snapping branches in a final schuss to oblivion.
While from far out at sea lumbers great fear,
destruction and possibly many deaths
among the coastal souls who’ve chosen to stay
in the direct path of this roaring giant.
It is certain we mountain folk will get our share,
we will not be spared the howling wind, driving rain.
Trees will collapse, littering the back roads,
cutting power lines, dread and fear to the old and ill;
generators will be ignited and roar their familiar tune.
We will certainly get a mirror of the tidal surge
when all the rivers will flood their banks and
eat into the wooded borderland, creeping up
the draws and climbing the hills where we will wait it out.
These days, now darkening, water and tins of food
safely hoarded, waiting for the wind to rise to a scream,
for the rain to knife horizontal through the demon air.