Like Children Under a Chair

Storms streak, crying out against
spring. A white haze settles across

the sky descending like icy
accusations judging the earth.

Something is going wrong;
something is amiss.

Leaves shrink, buds feel creation’s anger.
Misdirected aggression?

Nature turns on itself in a gasp of
self-preservation.

We watch helplessly

like children watching mom and
dad argue and feeling

the foundation shake and break.

The electricity goes out.

So vulnerable, so powerless,
so scared

like children cowering under a chair.

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