my porch in between bouts of rain

thunder fills the air

a growing roar in the distance

building into a crashing

like mile-wide sheets of aluminum

hammered by men who are hundreds of feet tall


the sprinkle and tinkle of rain

falling from eaves onto pavement and grass

the world drinks in the life-giving water

brown turns to green and green into darker green


I sit inside at my kitchen table

listening to the ebb and flow of the gentle storm

feeling the breeze through a screen door, brushing my legs

the air feels fresh and wet, exactly what the dry earth and my soul need

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