The night air swirled around
Like a gigantic carousel
As it sucked everything in its wicked path;
Livestock, houses and lives,
As if it were picking up feathers suspended
On the cold night air.
Listening to all the high picked screams
Just echoing though the all but still dark night.

As the tornado sucks the roof right off a freshly painted barn,
To drop in utter disgust.
It shatters in a thousand pieces;
Like a pane of glass
As it hits a dying old oak tree.

Then passed through as if it were
A tour bus filled with tourists
Traveling through the slums.