Poems and Thoughts    by Frank Maurer

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On the Edge of the Storm. I was on the edge of the passing storm. It warned with thunder and lightning. Oh, I am on the edge so all would be alright. Finish harvesting the flowers, I thought-- It will be alright, From the field to the barn to the water containers. Suddenly a bolt and a flash on top of me; The vibrations pierced my body-- And then the smell of burning ozone in the air. Was I then to die with my pounding heart? Thought--whom would I again ever see or not? Thought--What really comes fore out of stress? My ears still ring. But--I was just on the edge of the storm. Frank Maurer 28 March 2019.