Wednesday, May 5, 2021

The Tin Roof

 

The Rain slamming down on the tin roof took the silence away. Birds stopped singing, moths and other small lives beaten to the ground and a watery grave. Just a few minutes and life in my yard decreased by hundreds of unexpecting victims. When it stops and the tin roof is silent, Ill go check the avocado tree and the citrus tree that stopped producing fruit years ago because there were nests in both their branches. The fire ant and mole mounds would be tunnels to hell by now washing them under ground peering up hoping to see the light of the moon but only seeing blackness and streams of gushing water. As I stepped outside there was an eerie silence that only lasted as long as my cigarette did then, frogs started croaking, birds began to scream out distress calls looking for their eggs that fell from the nests. But the cycle had to continue as racoons grabbed the eggs and mothers cried. The night air was sticky, and the noises all spoke of danger passed until daylight broke and the soaked earth dried up waiting for the next time the tin roof cried out danger.


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