The wind snaps its fingers.

Our oak tree drops on command.
Palm fronds lay prostrate. Rain
washes – band after band
of purifying power
from the Lord’s cleansing hand.
Faith and spider webs still stand.

Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016
#aahcoo
…

The storm awoke us

and worried the dog
as electrified air
burst into thunder.
Rain pounded the roof,
and wind clapped the trees
like rhythm sticks and
flustered the leaves and
made the porch curtains
stand straight out in two
then three directions,
and when the dog slicked
his ears straight back too,
I prayed for the Lord
to protect us, and
I went back to sleep
with slumber my praise.

by Mary Sayler, © 2016

…