The Thunder Spoke

lush leaves
bellies up
moving as one
with their wind
a storm is coming

stay inside
near the shuddering panes
tight in an old quilt
favorite brew in hand
the best ones last all night

sometimes sprinkles begin
and like a concerto's crescendo
fat drops make their way
to the relentless pavement
always bouncing back

to some a storm begins
at the first lightning's pierce
jagged in the clear sky
signaling the thunder
to steal the show

every strike strikes someplace
seldom does one find a life
but if it did, this quilted body,
a jumpstart would find solace
in the cozy veins, open wide

it is grade school
when one learns
lightning's gap
shows the way
to thunder's power

counting the seconds between
is it nearing?
is it fading?
a picture worth a thousand words
a second worth one mile

every slow rumble
leads to a crash
jaws clench, joints tighten
in anticipation
nothing is as empowering

as that boom
that shakes the house
rattles the salt shaker
lets us know
we are not alone

thunder passes
lightning dies
rain reduces
to a conclusive
pitter-patter

the mug is empty
the window foggy with breath
the rain cleansed
the lightning warned
the thunder spoke