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The Storm

Lovingly dedicated to
Grampa Dale, who likes me to camp in the rain!

The distant thunder roars.
The rain patters down.
People converse,
Softly, quietly, silently.
The dead embers of the campfire
Flicker and die.

Another crack of daylight,
Another lion's roar.
The trees stand silently,
As if expecting the inevitable.
The rain, the thunder,
They come with increasing volume.

Invisible people play invisible pianos.
Their haunting melodies bring
Wind whipping wildly
Around my tent.
On and on and on
The spectral orchestra continues.

Morning at last!
My tent is in shreds.
My blankets and clothes are dripping.
But, I have survived.
I still live!
And stronger again, to face the next storm.