Falling Barometer

It's the season of thunderstorms and tornadoes. Having grown up on the plains and threatened by these weather patterns every summer, I empathize with those caught in the destructive path of any storm. And annually rejoice that I have moved farther away from the heart of tornado alley, albeit still on the northern fringe.

Thankfully, rainstorms predominate and not cyclones throughout the targeted states, despite what you might see on the news. But rain clouds can harbor lightening, dangerous in its own right, along with the menacing sound of thunder. And I had an aunt terrified by them, especially in the black of night.



Falling Barometer


Farmland Dakota flat
and wide to the weather.

My uncle concerned only
if the sky turned sickly with hail

but my aunt skittish
as a horse during summer storms.

Dark prairie midnights
roused with lightening strikes

yawned us into the front room
to pray for deliverance.  Every tempest

we mumbled the rosary by rote.
Come fall and football I pictured

lucky game-day jerseys spun from prayers
like those: talismans both

frequently charmed but sometimes crushed
by thundering forces.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor