Storms at Night ~

Evenings, or during the night
when rain would pellet our roof
with lightning flashing all around us
making the curtains swell
with the noise of thunder,
Mother would enter our room
and sit on the bed
with the four of us
and light a candle she held
in her hand,
Mother, once a little girl on Brady Street,
now sitting with us
sovereign, like a hovering angel
holding the bursting sky at bay
fearless, stalwart protectress
against all that could hurt us,
softly taming streaks of harm,
calming the frightful flashes,
subduing the raging storm.