Thunder

The gales are moving

As they move through ghost towns

For the first time I've truly felt

Why we associate 'howling' with winds

The ominous dread

Has scared the sun into hiding

As little cyclones of dust are spawned. 

Trees beg for mercy

Giving up their produce,

Their flowers, their limbs

We peer silently from our windows

Listening to the clouds growling

Like a child being reprimanded.

"What have I done?" I ask, feigning innocence

And it thunders back,

"What have you ALL done!"