Summer Thunderstorm by Mária Jančovičová
The thunder cracks in the air.
A large tree rumbles to the ground.
Grains of sand flutter in the warm air
whipping every inch of my bare skin.
The door seems to be out of my reach.
The strong wind holding me back.
I reach the door, open it, get inside.
A swarm of sand sneaks in with me, yet falls
paralyzed to the floor.
The quiet inside hurts my ears,
I walk slowly into the sunroom,
The sand creaking on the polished stone floor
underneath my feet.
I watch the helter-skelter behind the large windows.
An invisible monster tearing apart
the blooming rosebushes
burying them under heaps of hail.
The world becomes blurry
as the streams of rain run down the window glass.
And tears are scolding my cheeks.