Sestina Poem

 There’s something on the horizon, a storm

is coming. It’s late in the day, a long shadow
is cast. I watch from inside a bird fly.
On the TV there are warnings of a tornado.
Outside it starts to blow. Wind
shakes the leaves from trees. I pull a blanket close.

Danger grows close.
News of the storm
is drowned out by the wind.
Something approaches silently like a shadow.
It formed too quickly to have prepared for the tornado.
Trash is thrown, it seems to fly.

All the animals have ran, birds no longer fly
Danger comes close,
I move downstairs away from the tornado.
I can hear the storm
passing overhead, hiding in the basement’s shadow.
A sound like screaming comes from the wind.

I can feel the house being shaken by the wind.
It’s wet down here, pools of water form and a fly
buzzes by. The dim light bulb cast a yellow shadow.
I huddle in a corner, bringing arms and legs close.
Over the radio the storm
rages on, news is broadcasted about the tornado.

Time passes and the tornado
starts to let up, wind
dies down. I’m in the eye of the storm.
Upstairs, I can see debris fly
in the distance. I close
an opened door, and my home is filled with shadow.

It’s night now, and a single street lamp casts a shadow.
I can no longer see the wall of the tornado.
I go back to the basement, and close
The door behind me. I can hear wind
start to pick back up. The fly
rejoins my company. Hours pass until the end of the storm.

The storm is gone. Shadow
seems to envelope the world. The fly has left with the tornado.
Wind pushes my door, again, close.