There was a massive storm over South Australia this afternoon. The morning was blue skies, but we watched clouds travel across the sky throughout the day.
I’ve always wanted to sit and watch a storm, so I turned our round lounge around, got it facing the front windows – then invited both my young sons to sit with me to watch the lightning and rain-storm hit.
It did hit hard, and all three of us boys watched lightning and thunder, cuddling when it was a frightening, then tickling the tears away.
Finally the power went out around 4pm. Didn’t know for about 30mins that the entire state of South Australia also lost power!
Weirdest thing to ever happen. So we lit every available candle, cooked dinner on our gas stove, read books to the boys by candle light and put them to bed. Actually, there was a lot more to it than that. If you are connected to me on Facebook, you know what else happened.
Anyhow, after the power came back on at 7.30pm for us, everyone in South Australia went straight to Twitter and Facebook to determine the outcome, express their opinions, and tell the classic joke that there will be a baby boom in June 2017!
[SEGUE] I have a varied group of online friends, in many works-of-life. Some are radio personalities, others are house-keepers (I don’t say house-wives, nobody is married to their house!), and a few are poets and writers.
My good friend Martin Christmas wrote a poem about his experience this afternoon with the weather, so I felt the urge to write a poem also. This poem took about 30mins once I realised the direction I was taking it.
Anyhow, they are just words. But they are mine.
WINDED
Never to be outdone,
Mother nature
threw us another
bucket of tears
all over the state
of South Australia.
With a wild
back-hander,
she hit us hard
where it hurt:
She wiped out
our power and heat,
she blackened our eyes
with candle light,
and for many,
she repelled all
online connectivity.
Mum decided
when enough was enough:
Her knuckles barely wet,
she abated momentarily
before resuming
her barrage,
blowing trees around,
driving my wheelie bins
down the street,
filling the gutters with spent leaves.
This pummeling may not end
before morning,
the torrential tornado
may find new strength
in the night.
So sandbag your castles,
nail batons over doors,
Let not the glass door
be broken,
and find strength in the
knowledge that
this too shall pass.
Creativity & Artwork of Stephen Mitchell 
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