The Coming Storm

The black over the pines
signalling the coming storm
was the first something
I’d acknowledged as beautiful.

The contrast in colors
as well as temperament
caught me off-guard
and forced me to imagine
other sights
as more than just
scenery.

When I realized my thoughts
we were racing away from the storm
in the comfort of a family automobile
storms
and their coming
are no longer the events
they must have been.

The dust storms settling over the plains
ripping through blank areas
which removed the far-reaching protection
of some old trees roots
must have presented a hell of a problem.

Where I would be running up stone steps
to find shelter in a sturdy home
the wind then
might render the surrounding world blind
take away avenues of otherwise
taken for granted safety
and even the most remote
quasi-large impediment
would become a haven.

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