'Fraid to Step Outside

Weeds are growing and I oughter

Go out and pull them, but I dodder

'Cause I'm nothin' but mosquito fodder.

Breaking Storm

An epoch passes while I wait

The dreaded thing I anticipate.

It hovers like a thunder cloud--

A veil of gray, a funeral shroud.

The air is thick and hard to breathe,

And worries round my head enwreathe

My fears which only multiply

Like billowing blackness in the sky.

Then in a moment I hear a sigh

Of wind in motion passing by.

All that I thought would bring me grief

Was nothing--I embrace relief.