Spring Storm

Graduation yesterday.
Listless today.
Free from all that I wanted to escape,
I can’t find my way.
As the afternoon sky darkens
I choose to go out
To meet the rain,
If it shows up.
Consciously I imagine how the
Cool water will feel on my face.
And ignore the small voice of caution.
I want it.
The rain does not disappoint.
It comes. But not alone.
Moving in with its clatter of thunder,
And flashes of light far off in the west,
Dainty at first.
The drops
Make expanding polka dots
In the kids’ fishing pond.
A few drops slither down my glasses.
I wipe them away
And take a longer route.
The storm gathers its resources, builds
Until it’s a bevy of rain with
Wind dancing among the tallest of trees
Spitting an occasional pea of hail.
Just last week a huge tree
Near where I walk
Was uprooted by the wind.
Yesterday, lightning claimed two lives.
But for me, fear, is a distant notion.
Logically, it should be lurking in my gut.
But the cool water on my face
Brings the magic that
Turns lethargy to gratitude.

Half an hour later, at home.
The hail pounds with urgency,
On the windows
Near my computer
As I write.
Reminding me of the power
Of storm.
The sirens roar
Shrieking above the thunder.
The warnings slink away
Lurk in the distance like
Wild animals circling.
The waves come
And retreat.
The hail melts into rain.
And the drops on the window
Fade to inaudible.


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