A yellow fusion of gradients,
These bees whirled up en masse

And away from Andrea's storm gutter
While she banged

A shovel on the siding.
The insects growled off into the wind

And a new hurricane rose
Up, a violent thing from Spain

Carrying obsolete artifacts, chimney
Bricks, tar paper. Andrea

Ran into her house bleating,
Crying out for mercy.

Then seven stacks of blue lightning
Pinioned the seen corners of the earth

Throwing huge volts
Among the dying trees of Andrea's

Neighborhood, making the night day.
She got out her power binoculars

And peered from her bay window, and she saw
It was her religion coming to get her.