By Annette Gagliardi
Thunder rumbled like men arguing in the next room --
Their grumbling continued the squabble through the darkness.
Relentlessly incessant with no hope of compromise
Shy clouds-peek-a-boo lightening acting like paparazzi
On a feeding frenzy.
Rain beat an irregular rhythm directed by fierce, then placid winds.
Washing the rain this way and that --
Into every crevice and cranny.
Rabbits and squirrels scampered to burrow and bough
in search of refuge.
Snuggled safe in their shelter, they close eyes tight against the storm.
When It Rains
When it rains the smell
of fresh dirt rises up and captures
my senses and I am embraced by Mother Earth.
When it rains
the thunder speaks to me
at length and in volumes
that light up the sky with illumination.
When it rains
all your love washes over me
your caress slides
down my cheek
and touches my heart.
When it rains.
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