The Tornado
by Helen George

Children are kilt by the swirley thing
That comes down from the sky,
When God's wrath is felt by all
And many souls must die.

You are but a child, my mother said,
God won't take you today,
She took my hand, to the shelter we ran,
And I heard my mother pray.

Soon her prayers were answered
For the howling winds took rest,
Mother cried and said we are safe
As I gratefully clung to her breast.