Beneath her lawn the tiny restless souls nest and accumulate,
growing in frustration, expanding in anguish, desolation and hate,
The roaring thunder gives good warning and a bolt of lightning hits,
Upon the roof of Clementine’s house, until the wood burns and splits.
***
* * * *
Rushing out, he flees the house and sees it crumble to the ground,
He hears things digging themselves from the garden and fluttering all around,
Rain pours and lightning roars but the priest is alone in the night,
He reads more prayers and begs the Lord to let those things take flight.
***
* * * *
The babies in the lawn, the babies in the lawn,
How they keep the town awake till the break of dawn,
Armed with cross and holy water the young priest reads from scripture,
Finally, after many long hours the
