I always know there is a storm coming
when the jets buzz East to West
the landing gear screams down over Grizzly Peak
then in the next breath with
red eyes flashing the dragon’s wings
scrape my chimney.
How these monsters in the night
go so low, so slow and
still make it to SFO or OAK
I do not know?
I am warm and safe the room is tight.
Soon there will be rain on the roof
in the middle of the night.
Margo Roby’s Tuesday Tryouts suggested we tell an emotional truth from our memory using sensory detail. You should check out her blog for poetry prompt and much much more!