by Jack Swenson

There was no place to hide, so he just stood there looking out the cabin window and watched. He watched the light fade, the lake froth, then an unseen hand sweep the scudding waves away. It began to rain, and he watched until the window ran with rivers of water and the lake disappeared and the rain pounded the roof with the force of a jackhammer. And then the wind died, it stopped raining, the sun came out, and he went outside. A tree was down next door, its root mass pulled free of the ground; the hole at the foot of the tree looked liked a bomb crater. A single bird was singing in the top of a tree on the shore of the lake: Come out, come out, we're safe, we're alive!


Jack Swenson, author of First Time, teaches creative writing at a Senior Center and spends most of his spare time writing. His wife thinks he should be working in the yard. Check out his books at iuniverse.com or amazon.com.


Quin said...

the one force of nature i fear..

madam z said...

This is beautiful! It is so well writen that I can visualize every stage of the storm, before, during and after. The birdsong is the perfect ending.

golfwidow said...

You do always hear birds after a big storm, don't you? I must have noticed, but I never NOTICED.