A Summer Storm

The scent before a summer storm strongly suggests we sit Outside in our rocking chairs on the porch. There is no sound. All birds have fled. The only Movement is a lone rabbit who dives under the brush. A distant rumble revs our windows and a smooth Breeze calmly passes over the grass like a low tide. Before long, a sound as harsh as a whip cracks Through the clouds unleashing a curtain of rainfall. Beside me, my father sips his tea as I reach for a blanket-- The temperature has stooped to sixty. Slowly, slowly The air expands and feels pure. Wind has ceased, Yet the rain still patters politely on the sidewalk, Inviting me to come out to play in the puddles. The flash of lightning followed by thunder returns Me to reality. For just but a moment, the canopy, As gray as graphite, astonished and astounded me.