The Storm

While waiting for power to come back the following came pouring out of me, I still have not forgotten how to use pen and paper!

The storm came with a fury,
power was down first,
but precious little rain.
The wind blew trees like leaves,
sweeping the sky like great whisks or brooms.
They did not brush away the clouds,
but danced like children possessed.
The wind roared,
not some moanful howl,
but like a great locomotive rushing past.
For a short while I had my computer and internet also,
UPS saw to that,
but only for a brief time.
Then i could only but watch the malicious weather.
I was safe and warm in my home, but no lights,
candles lit my dark room.
Ah, to ride such a storm,
what distances we could travel.
And the Forsythia, just turning yellow, told us of spring.