Photo credit: milo’s photos (Flickr)

I.

Jagged cracks of pure light
flicker flicker
draw silhouette
in the gray mist
of rain cloud and winddust.
Rumbles resonate to the ends of the sky
and flash back again.
Trees sway with the warm, restless breeze.
A few big drops of rain
slap the dry concrete
with dark damp splotches.

The wind holds
its
breath

and

lets it out with a sighing swish.
Water falls to the
gorgeous thunder rhythm,
washing the world
with staccato spatter.
Wind whips the rainspray.

II.

I drink in the storm.
Wind blows my shirt,
and wet spots cool
my warm brown skin.
The damp freckles merge.
Rain falls cold from matted hair
to make tiny rivulets
in the wrinkles of my forehead.
Trickles slowly fill my lashes,
and drop to my cheeks when I blink.
From there they run like tears,
lukewarm, to the crease of my lips.
When I open my mouth to breathe the storm air,
the rainwater slips in.

It tastes faintly

wet leaves
diluted green
sweet?

The scent of evergreen shrubs
comes strong and damp.
More drops fall from my hair
and slip smoothly down my neck and back
and tickle coolly in my ears.
I jam cold hands tightly into pockets,
hunch cold shoulders,
and blow the tickling water
off the tip of my nose.

III.

The rain falls faster.
Cars whiz by,
lights, wipers, heaters, radios on.
One passenger glances at me,
wondering
at the kid who stands in the rain.
A connoisseur, I think to him.
I puff another raindrop from my nose, and shiver mightily.

IV.

Rabonni–
I hear the song
I feel the strokes
I see the images
I know the Master piece.
Thank you
for showing an apprentice
the beauty of gray.