Did the white lightening strikes, alarm you? <br />Was the Thunders plowing, too deep? <br />Breaking, near to the sound barrier <br /> <br />And bleaching, the wool, of our Black Sheep. <br />The pasture laid down, with burned edges <br />The water piled, in puddles, near to town <br />But the storms ravaging fever <br /> <br />Would not, in any way, come down. <br />Nothing to do to appease it <br />But perhaps, caress its weary brow <br />Biding our time 'til it's full recovery <br /> <br />The sheep, bleached white, in the barn, <br />Are safe now.<br /><br />Theodora (Theo) Onken<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/storm-42/
