Where the Thunder Goes

Where the Thunder Goes A Golden Shovel after Something Wicked this Way Comes by Ray Bradbury Kevin Kissane Desert sand turns to glass where zips of lightning land. It does not trumpet a sound, but the lapping of lyre-like thunder holds still where the prairie dogs go, and the rainstorm will sing when wind rubs its paws clean on the glass. But it only sounds til’ the last of the deluge dies … Fear takes bloom in the spots where […] Continue Reading