Act of God

Ambushed by the sudden storm, we stop.
We gasp and gaze through our invisible shield,
The car windows nearly busted by
Blow by blow of the battering hail
Stones cast from the darkened heavens
Upon unsuspecting travelers.

"A storm is not like the power of God,"
I recall, "It is the power of God."

Drivers huddled beneath the protective wings of
Gas station canopies find
No more shelter from the side-striking fury
Than those who flash distress signals find
Comfort on the highway's shoulder.

Inside the stranded jalopies and luxuries,
The frightened and the fearless,
The newborn and the weather worn,
The faithful and the faithless,
All helpless in God's storm,
All bend their necks to search the sky for mercy.

God can make snowflakes
As easily as ice rocks.

A reprieve of rain.
The final stone, serendipitous as the first,
Splotches the ice-paved streets.
With new awe and long-held exhales,
We carefully return to the road, now bent,
Dented, and surrounded by
A frightened world of white.