Green On Black
Green on black, embraced by gray,
left me not, in the solitude of this day.
For pure and clean was the evenings rain,
as green met black, thus easing my pain.
Yet louder and louder became the pitter of patter,
As the puddles of heavens dew, grew fatter and fatter.
Then came the tenor… bass and alto too
As the hale and hearty rumbles of thunder steadily grew.
Also frightening and quick became the hot flashes of crimson light,
which sounded and grounded all the creatures of flight.
For soon too, the whispering wind grew into a mighty and deafening roar,
and the green of three massive oak trees broke totally asunder,
as the angry gray sky, no longer pleasing or shy… asked for more and more.
Buildings soon began to creak
as the patrons of the small café began to shriek.
Little children cried,
And old men prayed,
That the storm would break
And that all would be saved.
The building shook,
And the walls did shudder
As several agnostics left their place
And joined the old men in prayer.
Looking for grace from God above,
Hoping that it was not too late for them to find his love,
But as quick as the coming of the angry winds blow,
It was equally as quick to leave and go.
And if anything did come from this green on black day,
Apart from minor damage…two unbelievers were saved.
J. Allen Wilson © 2004