SUBJECT>Re: Surrender POSTER>Laurel EMAIL> DATE>1111170228 IP_ADDRESS>156.77.108.71 PASSWORD>aaFRbor6/KzWk PREVIOUS>84901 NEXT> 84997 IMAGE> LINKNAME> LINKURL>

First, I'm loving Ryan's formatting. Wow.

Next, I'm loving that bottle-green afternoon. Reminds me of many a summer day here in Ohio when the sky would change to that sickly green and we'd all say: tornado!

Only word that trips me up a bit is anxious. I love the winds spitting...but I'm not sold on anxious. I guess it does work in the sense that the atmosphere does seem to tense up and become almost combustible before a twister.

Only ever experienced one firsthand, and it was called a microburst, not a fullblown, ha ha, tornado....and it happened so fast. The sound is huge, unforgettable. A train bearing down on the house. By the time I was at the top of the cellar steps, the storm had already blown through, trees were already torn down. So much for running for cover. (smile)

Good poem.

Laurel

:
: Surrender
:

: Winds circle in a bottle-green afternoon.
: They spit rain, anxious.
: “What’s coming with this heavy smell,
: this dirt-soaked, dust-rinsed quarrel
: from over the hill?”
: Doors slam throughout
: the hollow house.
: Open the windows.
: Run down,
: run down,
: Tornado!

:
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