“Storms” Andrea Hollender Budy After her tired dogs retreat, the mangrove keys settle back to sleep. Though thunder shakes the palms, it's from a distance so harmless a bird looks up only occasionally, his feet stuck in the lazy water. My storms are wild cats screaming from the trees, the winds silent at first, then stiff, vicious, taking the roofs with them. My trees won't calm themselves nor birds betray their hidden places. Here, rain is never truly welcome. Even when weeds grow dry as chalk and the dog won't leave the air-conditioned room, I'd rather have the dust. Think of me sleeping some night in a tent along the river, lulled at first by those early drops. When all at once the ground becomes a river, too, think of me lucky to get out. This time think of me lucky. Budy, Andrea Hollander. “Storms.” LitFinder. Galenet. Starr's Mill Media Center, Fayetteville, Georgia. 25/4/2007.