I can see it,
Rolling across the sky
From miles away,
Promising and
Intimidating
All at once.
Sheets of streaked
And ancient gray,
Sliced by lightning
Fail to reach
The parched earth.
Waiting seeds ache
In their winter slumber,
Anxious to begin
Their race to
The sun.
As thunder rumbles,
I wait too,
My eyes closed
Against the rain.
Categories: Poetry