Storm

Charlotte Rowntree

I envy the quiet rain That lulls you to sleep I am the storm that scares you.

Shouting at the skies Rather than just whispering My words while you sleep.

I envy delicacy softness and quiet: Obviously I envy

you.

Van Gogh’s Cornfield

Tash Royal

The field has been calm for so long, Just a meadow of yellow, a scene of green. But a storm approaches and the crow knows it.

They came in their hundreds and hundreds bringing the sweet gift of numbness. Their warning caws are so loud in the once pleasant field that peace is a memory.

They didn’t come soon enough. They left no time to prepare for the despair the storm would bring with its dark clouds and its lightning.

They are only crows. It is only a field. But the storm? The storm is real. To me, the storm is real.