Posted in Quatrain

A Sense Of Chaos

Last night, a wicked storm came through
and suddenly our power blew.
When in my state of fast asleep,
upon my bed the cat did creep

to ask me, in his loudest mew,
if there was something I could do.
From under covers safe and warm,
I ventured forth to face the storm.

The heater died with power loss.
I could have sworn the room had frost.
No going back, no place to hide.
The dogs were keen to go outside.

The time was lost in darkened clocks.
I slipped cold feet inside of socks
and stumbled to the kitchen door
through which I heard the thunder roar.

Though not yet dawn, my nerves were fraught.
I longed for working coffee pot.
A nice hot brew would warm within.
It’s time to let the pups back in.

No smell of coffee could compete
with those wet dogs and muddy feet.
I dried them off with puppy towels
ignoring all their playful growls.

I would not join them in this game.
The unmade bed called out my name.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 10/5/14 prompt at Creative Bloomings “Sunday Seed” to write a poem based on your powers of observation at random states of acuity.

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