They walked through devastated streets. The derecho had its way with this small town. High winds tore off roofs and flattened walls. Had no respect for a newly decorated baby’s room or hi-bred roses clinging to an arched trellis. Twenty minutes of hell.
House gone, the James family sifted through rubble. Faint smiles shared when Betty discovered a shattered glass frame; reunion photo still intact. Down the road, Grampa Hilliard sat on a tree stump in the center of what had been his pristine front yard. Head in hands, he mumbled words of thanks to God for lives spared and green grass below his feet.
Talk what you please of future spring and sun-warm’d sweet tomorrow, this was the day the Lord brought. Grateful to be alive, they would sing His praises in church tomorrow. Monday they would begin the herculean task of rebuilding.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is Prosery Monday and Sanaa has asked us to insert the line, “Talk what you please of future spring and sun-warm’d sweet tomorrow.” – from the poem A Daughter of Eve by Christina Rossetti into our piece of prose/flash fiction that is no more than 144 words long, sans title.
Iowa was hit by a derecho on August 10, 2020 when widespread, destructive straight line winds hit the central area of the state. Wind gusts measured up to 106 mph near Marshalltown. The story above is fiction.