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 thud of thunder,
Mother would enter our room
and sit on the bed
with the four of us
to light a candle she held
in her hand—
Mother, once a little girl on Brady Street,
now sitting with us
sovereign, like a mighty angel

fearless, stalwart protectress,
holding the bursting sky at bay, 

controlling powers that could hurt us,
gently taming bolts of harm,
calming the roaring thunder,
subduing the raging storm—

that benignly always

would pass us over.