Threat of a storm

Leaves on the trees
move up and down.
Thunder rolls in the distance.
Clouds in the sky
move like a flooding stream.

Thunder resounds nearer, a bad dream
returning, memories that I try
to suppress, burning the trance
unsuccessfully of my house blown down
on top of me, then lifted like maple leaves.

Yearning to write poetry,
my feelings intensify, turning my mind
round and around, funnel like
while the leaves on the trees
move up and down.

Cold a cloud, white uprising over town,
my miserable state of mind
just like
the poetry

of the raven haired beauty’s wave to me
before she gets into her white Chevrolet SUV
and drives slowly on the street in front of me.
Leaves on the trees
cease their up and down.