At the End of Tornado Alley

By: Delaney Thurston

I remember a little rhyme I heard when I was young,

It said, “April showers bring May flowers”

That never applied to my town.


April brings pitch-black evenings,

Nights when ominous clouds scared away the stars,

Days that sirens meant coming home early from school


Those sirens frighten me still,

They signal long nights huddled in closets protected by stairs,

They signal mornings when I would call my friends to find out…

             If they are homeless

                        If they are damaged

                                     If they are dead


May brings charity work,

Days I spend cleaning up rubble

Afternoons I spend with the Red Cross

             Handing out Blankets

                          Handing out clothes

                                       Handing out food

After that the year continues;

          The houses get rebuilt,

                            The damaged people heal,

                                       But the dead ones never return…

 Until come next April,

When they come to watch over their families,

Huddled in closets protected by stairs.


Cover photo by: Dottie S. (public domain)

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