The Approaching Front

Thunder rumbled through the neighborhood,
drowning out those attempting reassurance.
The darkling air turned the pastel house colors
into sickly staging for ominous performance.
Lightning rode the black horizon toward them,
and the air smelled of damp and dank and ozone.
Those outside worriedly abandoned their tasks
and not quite running retreated indoors to hide.
Those inside clustered, holding their fears close,
for a storm’s capricious harm is unknowable
and it cares nothing for the houses of men.