Poetry

Thunderation

Storm One.

The house grows mid-winter dark
too early in the afternoon;
thunder crashes uncomfortably close.

The boy runs inside, returned
from a hastily ended tennis match,
hair damp with the start of the rain.

We see the flash of lightning,
watch the storm from the screen door,
leave it alone as it slackens.

Storm Two.

Later I drowse on the sofa,
dreaming of more thunder
or perhaps it is not a dream.

This time it rumbles, further away.
I pull the blanket over my head
and close my ears against it.

Storm Three.

Awake, I ponder dinner,
make a mental list for the store,
but the thunder begins again.

Rain that beats against the pavement
also runs into the basement
through cracks in the foundation

I pick clothes up from the floor,
sodden and heavy, dumped
from a basket someone needed.

Storm Four.

We close the windows, south and west,
but on the north-east corner
I sit by the open window.

The rain smells fresh and cool
as it waters our new tree,
as it soaks into the ground.

9 thoughts on “Thunderation”

  1. Yes. Four storms. Four poems. Nice. I love the fresh air following a good storm. Glad you got to enjoy a Sunday at home. I will get that in a few weeks!

  2. We have had a series of brief but intense storms here today, too. I enjoyed them, and it was a pleasure to read about yours too.

  3. We got hit again today by a couple of storms. One morning and one late afternoon/evening.
    I think I’m growing webs between my toes–its just incredibly soppy here.

  4. Ah, rain-sleeping. It doesn’t get any better, IMHO. Thanks for sharing these!
    We are MOLD CENTRAL here. Lakes still at flood stage and if you are mold-allergic, you are sad. Those of us who are ragweed-allergic will be sad soon!
    Zyrtec!!

  5. I LOVE thunderstorms. Thanks for the beautiful expression of this experience of four of them.

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