Rain scrolls down the cabin wall

strong winds drown black bird’s call

those outside take hold of hats

holes in the Barn allows in cats

Horses bob their head

walking in to be dry and fed

Returning just in time from Riverdale wood

Has this soup tasting mighty good

When the storm is done I’ll go play

or help the others look for a stray

Thunder echoing in my head

perhaps I’ll just go to bed.