29 Camping Out The Storm
The soft rocks lined
The riverbank
Where I set up camp.
The clouds
Become dark overhead.
Silence.
And then
Wind whistle through the tree;
Water splashes against the bank
Strong tree branches,
Flimsy
The air
Heavy
The sun
Disappears
Drips—rain falls
Fasterandstronger
Thunder
Lightning—flashes every second
I sat
In the tent
Waiting
For what felt like—hours
Suddenly
Calm
The sound of thunder
Turned into birds chirping
The bricks of rain against the tent
Gone
The war-like sounds have passed
The wind slept once more
I’m spared—