And then . . .  After the storm

 

The big black clouds were swept away.

     The sun came in the sky,

But even with this ray of hope,

     Their world was far from dry.

 

Old Noah said: 'I’ve had a thought.

     I know what we will do.'

He quietly spoke to a white dove,

     And off she quickly flew.

 

Within an hour the dove returned,

     An olive branch in beak,

And Noah said: 'We must stay here

      At least until next week.'

 

Next week old Noah called the dove,

     Who left the ark again.

By nightfall she had not returned,

    And so it was quite plain  - 

 

That she had found a place to roost 

     Safe high up in a tree.

So when she didn’t come next day

     It was obvious to see

 

The floodwater was going down,

     And soon they’d all be free.

'Hurrah,' the animals called out,

     'It’s goodbye to this sea.'

 

Noah seemed especially pleased,

     And the dogs began to bark.

The ducks all quacked and lions roared.

     It was such a noisy ark.

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Copyright on all my poems                 

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