WAITING FOR THE STORM

Solitary and quiet today
except for an occasional
exchange with the dog.

Waiting for the storm.

Spending some time outside
in that foreboding yellow-hot
atmosphere.

Enjoying the warmth, yet knowing,
from experience, the colors
that paint a threatening stillness.

Waiting for the storm.

The weatherman tells us
it will spawn tornadoes, lightning
and straight-line winds.

I’ve perceived the atmosphere for years.
Since I was eight and touched the thick green air.
The silence made my heart pound out of my chest.

I looked out at the playground,
dark clouds encircled an unprotected building.
And I prayed for the storm to vanish.

Now I am inside the walls
of our unprotected home.
The lack of movement in the trees
mirrors my absence of fear.

I am waiting for a storm
and knowing it will pass.