Battle in the Heavens

Thunder’s war-horn resounds
Explosive strikes batter trees
Animals race to their young
Children cover beneath pillows

Rain pummels the earth
Their legions arriving in full
Floodwaters carrying wooden victims
Their rising is our sinking

Even so,
Our champion rises
At battle’s darkest hour
The Sun prevails

He raises a Bow of Promise
Blades of grass shake to green
Birds feast on the softened earth
Warmth returns; renewal springs

The enemy has fallen
In a great reversal
The flood is our cleansing
The fire, our purification
The sword, our chisel

...

I wrote this after a flash flood. The storm was terrible and awesome. Thunder boomed. Rain poured. Tornado and flood warnings rang on my phone. Rivers of water seemed to flow by the house. Yet, in a moment, just after the storm’s darkest, the sun sprang up and chased it away. The birds flocked to the soft ground for easy pickings. They sang their songs. The sun came through warm, like a blanket, through the window. All of a sudden, peace. In a moment, the war was over.