Remembering Dorothy

As  thunder rumbled in the distance and the dark clouds moved closer bringing one of the early storms of summer,  Hank and I ran to  the barn, waiting until the very last moment to close up the doors.  As I stood there looking out at the swirling clouds, I thought of Dorothy.

The house began to pitch....

Dorothy:  It really was no miracle.  What happened was just this. 

 The wind began to switch-

The house , to pitch-

And suddenly the hinges started to unhitch-

 Just then the Witch-

 To satisfy an itch-

Went flying on her broomstick,

 thumbing for a hitch!

Muchkin:  And, oh, what happened then was rich!

Muchkins:  The house began to pitch-

 The kitchen took a slich-

It landed on the Wicked Witch -

in the middle of a ditch-

 Which was not a happy situation for the Wicked Witch!


We returned to the house and went up stairs. Everyone seemed to have claimed their window space to sit and watch the storm beat against the barn with swells of rain.  Hank hid under the desk.  The cats who I scooped up running back to the house, followed me from room to room.  My husband welcomed the storm by opening the balcony door and met it face to face until it forced him inside. And I, feeling unsettled as I watched the storm, returned to my work.