Two Sentence Tuesday #7

The storm began with the staggered patter of thick raindrops on the asphalt. Before too long, the county was drowning in unrelenting tides of precipitation.

First Date

First Date

By Brandon Palzkill

Shimmering starlight twinkles

In your bright sapphire eyes

As we jet down the boulevard

In a Cadillac convertible

Top down, winds blowin’ through our

       hair,

Got your feet up on the dash,

Head tipped back,

Carefree, you beam at me

And I fall in love.

I take you to the House of Blues

Buzzing with electric neon

Red and violet and pink,

Bathing us warmly; slowly

Swaying, grinding

To the gravelly rasp of Tom Waits

Singing through the juke box.

Hold you close; hold you tight,

And you hold your breath,

While you fall in love.

Gray, overflowing clouds roll in,

Thick, glassy raindrops

Pound the asphalt, sizzling; crashing;

Chasing us beneath a park gazebo,

We wait, sitting out the storm;

Your rain-washed flesh sparkles;

I touch you… you shiver.

I taste sweet precipitation

On your lips

As we fall in love.

Storm Season

Storm Season

By Brandon Palzkill

The day is changing;

charcoal clouds glide gracefully in,

as sudden chills blanket the ground;

a storm has swept over us…

the symphony is about to begin.

The percussion section starts it off;

rolling thunder, resounding; reverberating;

a pounding timpani to shake the earth.

And then a crash, the lightning’s flash;

a steely cymbal, stealing our breaths away.

Rain… the booming snare drum,

showering down in chaotic cadences ,

rapidly rat-a-tat-tating

at millions of beats per minute;

it raucously raps, ringing in our ears.

And, finally… the melody;

a hauntingly beautiful and primal chorus,

sung by the howling winds;

trees shiver with the raw power

of their voices; the leaves dance, wildly.

I, a captivated audience member,

quiver with terrified excitement.

I hear the echoing chorus through my walls,

the bass notes shaking my bones,

as my heartbeat flutters to the furious fugue.

Inevitably, the clouds will pass on

and the curtains will fall.

The conductor takes his final bow

and the orchestra packs up…

on to the next performance.