Rain on a tin roof, sing a rapid melody,
Tink, Tink, Ping, Tink, Tink, Ping,
The rain accompaied by quarter size hail,
Grandfather rockin' in his ole' rockin' chair,
Creek, Cricken, Creek, Cricken, Creek,
Smoking his flavored cigar,
The wind picks up, hail becoming more freguent,
The everlasting fields of tobacco swaying voilently in
The harsh wind,
Gran walks through the screen door, SLAM
She breaths deep, her nostrils flairing.
"Twist'er be comin'." Grandfather looks at her
in panic. She helps him up out of his chair.
She runs for candles and matches, while Grandfather
Hobbles for the old radio of his side table in front of the T.V,
Gran helps him down to the basement.
Now as the wind is blowing at the tobacco plants, bending
A few stalks pulling whole plants up by the roots, Gran
And Grandfather walk down the creeky old steps. Both scared
That this twister might be their last.
While standing in a dusty corner, lifting the mattres
Over both their heads, Gran and Grandfather hear the
Barn crash to the ground from the winds feirce hand,
Thunder clashed and Gran felt Grandfather jump in
Surprise,
The chickens were being slammed up against the
Side of the house in loud BANGS, Gran held on to
Grandfather who tried to bolt out of her hands, the
Chickens were his pets,
Finally, they hear the familiar roar of the twister,
'it will soon leave, they never stay in one place long,'
Gran whispered into Grandfathers ear, when she finishes
She hears plates fall to the ground, the roof is torn off, and
Her mama's china is crashing to the floor,
The twister sauntered over on top of the house,
Gran squints her eyes to keep the dust out, the mattres flips
Off of them, light lingers over Grandfathers face, the left over furniture
are flung into the whole crashing and spinltering on the basement floor,
Gran looks carefully at Grandfathers face, she notices a
Small amout of spittle sliding over his lower lip down to his
Strong chin, she suddenly notices his left leg and his right arm
Are jolting in a spuratic movement,
Gran holds him close, and sings his favorite song to him,
Meanwhile the rest of the kitchen is torn from its foundation,
'the twister must have headed back to us, instead of moving on',
she whispers to herself,
Grandfather starts to shake worse than before, lightning crashes
Lighting his face, Gran turns her head, she can't look into his eyes, his
eyes are bloodshot and turned into the back of his head,
More thunder booms and the lightning makes its apperance across the dark
sky,
The twister moves into the neighbors yard, and almost immediately turns
into harmless clouds, Grandfathers eyes fall to face Gran, his trembling
stops, his limbs hard to move off of Gran, for rigor mortis has already
grasped at his fragile body,
Gran looks into his blue eyes, cold, nothing but cold. Gran tiredly
Drags him to his favorite ole' rockin' chair, which is now sitting right in
front of the basement door.
Gran searches through the rubble of the barn, looking in the
General area of where the tool shed was, atlast she finds the spade. She
starts to look now for the wheel barrel, she finds it
Not far from the spade,
She pushes the wheel barrel over to where Grandfather is resting in a
slumped postion, Gran carefully moves him into the wheel barrel, the spade
in her summer dress pocket,
Gran walks up the beaten path to the family cemetary, slpping on pebbles
and pushing Grandfather up the hill with her frale little arms shaking from
the work,
She see the picket fence, the trees have hardly been touched, only
A few branches clutter the small square cemetray, she hurriedly moves the
branches away to the side, she pulls out the spade and begins to shovel
away loads of dirt,
An hour or two later, Gran has dug a whole deep enough, and long enough for
the job, she dogedly lifts Grandfather out of the wheel barrel, she
carefully sets him into the grave,
Gran climbs in with him, she lifts his head onto her lap, see closes his
eyes with her fingers, she kisses Grandfathers old thin lips, while sitting
in to grave she hears rain pattering on the leaves of the trees over her
head,
While the rain falls softly to the ground, as if mother nature were licking
her own wounds, Gran sings 'Amazing Grace' in her shril saprano, she climbs
out still singing and begins to cover her husband with the dirt of the
property that he was born on and died on,
The dirt covers his face, Gran cries her tears falling to the
Top of the grave, she begins to sing 'Rugged Cross', her voice gives out in
a few spots but she keeps at it,
The grave is fully covered, the rain has stopped, the sun in now shining,
and the smell of the wet forest is lingering to Grans attention, she wipes
the sweat from her brow, looking out over all the rubish the twister has
left behind,
CREEK, CREEK, CRICKEN,CREEK, CREEK,
Gran turns around and smiles,
There in front of her sits Grandfather in his ole' rockin' chair,
He smiles at Gran and waves his hand, 'see you soon Sugar.'
'You to John', Gran responds then turns to go and heads out of the gate,
lockeds the small lock on the fence, then disappeared out into the field,
Grandfather sits and watches her go, a tear comes to his eyes,
'I'm going to miss her.' He says in a trembling voice before his figuare
turns to mist in the wind.