THUNDER

THUNDER

I grew up with thunder

Fascinated

Boyhood storms with claps and flashes

Warm summer squalls and autumn tempests

Charmed by the pelting cadence

Then the flare and counting, one, two, three

A jolt of cannon fire,

Shaking glass, cracking trees

Then silence in the rainy land

To which I moved years ago

Where thunder is seldom heard

But for this morning

Five o'clock, the rush of rain outside

And surprisingly the welcome sound

Of thunder.

© JULY 22, 2016