At night in bed, storm is theater,
lighting up a black sky, thunder rolling
lion roaring, life in a Serengeti.
Wind coming up, lashing the windows,
then the rain, lighter than promised
steady and fulfilling.

I love a morning rain storm
where the sky, brightening
toward day, darkens again
giving me a wrapped feeling.
Lightning flashes, thunder
so sharp it hurts my ears,
even Cat crawls away, nothing can reach him,
not even us.

The rains come, pouring like honey
on welcoming earth, freshening as it goes.
We can keep it from us with an umbrella,
or covered by a yellow rain slicker.
But sometimes,
the smart answer is to be with it,
stand in awe, let it drip from
the tip of our nose, cover our glasses, slosh in our shoes.
And finally on the other side
of the isobar, it stops and we
are inundated with the sweetness
of negative ions, the scent
of lilacs in the air.

From A Terrible Tenderness (Lulu Press, 2013).
Used here with permission.