In
The
Night,
Heavy,
Biblical
Rain.
Thunder
Cascades
Over
And
Under,
Heaven’s
Boulders
Drop
And
Roll,
Shaking
The
Mountain’s
Soul,
Which
Weeps
And
Arroyos
Flood,
As
Roads
Sink
In
Mud.
I lie
In
Bed
And
Dread
The
Roof
Will
Smash,
Fall
With
A
Crash,
And
Wash
Me
Away,
Encased
In
Desert
Clay,
But
Today,
The
Sky
Is
Thin
And
Grey,
Innocent
Of
Such
Intent,
And
I am
Saved
From
A
Watery
Grave.