Storm in the Valley

 

STORM IN THE VALLEY

 

A thunderstorm blunders blindly into the valley,

Feeling out the floor with his forked white stick;

Stumbles, grumbling, over the hills and ricks,

Belaboring his path to either side.

 

Trees bow and blaze before his fumbling stride

And grazing cows amble off in dumb amaze.

The creatures of the field press down and gaze.

Birds flounder, thunder-startled, in the air.

 

The old mummer wanders on, unaware,

Humming a tune in his cracked old tone.

He walks along his windy path alone,

Murmuring of far lands yet to be.

Notes:

I wrote the first version of this poem in my creative writing class in college, so that puts it in the early eighties. I've tinkered with it, on and off through the years, as I think it's one of my better poems. In fact, I've changed one word for this publication of it.