On the first day of fall.... lets remember a summer storm
heat rising from black hot blacktop..
shimmering waves visible to the eye.
air thick with moisture..
difficult to breath..
oppressively obsessively depressively..
weighs on all creatures chests.
white towering billowing clouds
roil in from the west..
their dark underbellies
casting shadows as they cross the horizon..
clouds with altitude and attitude..
fresh cool winds blow frantically ahead..
carrying the scent of water.
playing with the earth..
trees waving, grass swaying,
dust and dead leaves dancing skyward
swallows who have foretold this storm
have swept low feeding for hours
waiting for the rain
now rush nestward to comfort their young
drum roll thunder following distant flashes
anounce to all that the storm is close..
counting the seconds..
1 one thousand 2 one thousand..
between flashes and sound..
to judge the distance
from the hill i rush to find shelter..
an old barn without a door..
wood worn from seasons long..
no one caring for it any more.
waiting for one more winter snow storm
to bring it to earth.
across the valley the conquering
sheet of rain can be seen..
thick grey drops obscuring the hills..
hills I was contemplating just a few minutes ago.
rain marching over everything in its path.
a few large drops are now pounding..
bang bang bang..
as each of them hit the tin..
just a few scouts trying to find a weakness..
first drops hit the ground by the barn..
each causing a small dust cloud
with each heavy hit on the dry bare earth
wind has leaves on the trees turned over
and their coloring is a scared pale green
from their exposed undersides
now more drops hit the roof..
the full division has arrived
so many that it is deafening..
like being inside a drum.
the wind now whips rain mist particles
thru the open door..
the wetness welcomed by my hot skin
lightning is flashing every where
over there. there.. here..
too intiquing to make me afraid and hide..
the thunder is now a marching drum band
with bass drums and snares competing for
my attention.. music for the attack
rumbling deep.. now ratatat
now rumbling so it shakes the barn
and echos in my chest
cool cool cool now replacing the heat..
the barn is now sooo eerily cool..
small riverlets gather where the roof guided rain
come together and puddles start to arise.
each drop that hits the puddle
makes a bubble..
and i watch with fascination.
how long can a bubble last
before another drop bursts it..
hoping one bubble will survive.
the sound on the roof lessens..
the roar of the thunder muffles.
and the stikes of lightning move east.
small branches are wind casualties
scatterd across the yard..
grass that was soo happily waving..
now is bent, lying close to the earth.
dust and leaves now mud
somewhere.. over there..
someone else is now hiding from this fury..
the chattering swallows come out
each telling the other about how great a storm this was..
as they shoot skyward to dance high overhead.
and i step out into the puddles..
to make a few bubbles of my own..