August 6, 2012 | A poem
I wandered through the field, and the sky turned black.
The thunder hit the horizon.
Hit the horizon like a hammer hitting a nail,
a house being built by the hands of an ancestor.
The clouds rolled.
Rolled through like the sound of a plane,
rumbling down the airstrip, just moments from lift-off.
The darkness came in.
Darkness came in like the night sky after
the seasons change and the time changes,
the night coming sooner than expected.
Wandered through the field and the sky turned black.
Black like coal.