Junkyard poetry

I really like Dana's junkyard poem over at Southern Gal Goes North. I really encourage all to read it. Then, take a shot at your own junkyard poem. The only rules are you have 10 minutes to write, and you can't edit. I guess I'd suggest waiting a while after reading something, so your own writing isn't affected by what you've read. I couldn't get Southern Gal's rich imagery out of my head, and ended up with a poem on the same topic.

Basement

Black the afternoon sky like moonless night.
Wind sweeps loose leaves off orchard trees.
Cold breeze pushes away the summer heat.
My mother calls us into the basement.
There we huddled in the dark listening
to the radio reports of watches, warnings, sightings.
I can still smell the moist, moldy air.