The Gift of an Oklahoma Summer Rain

 

Starts with claps of thunder,

cracks of lightening,

shock and awe at dawn.

Rain in sheets pelts the roof,

water blows sideways at walls and windows.

Easy to pretend we’re vacationing

in Haiti during a brief hurricane.

Niagara Falls on the front porch

from the leaky downspout.

Plants soak up moisture,

cracks in parched dirt absorb liquid

like expensive skin cream,

becoming smooth again.

One lone bird chirps out,

“Can’t take much more of this!”

Raindrops slow, other birds chime in,

“Holy shit! What was that?”

Clouds pass, sky lightens.

Birds shout, “Let’s eat!”

We hear trickling sounds,

intermittent drops hit puddles and leaves.

Storm brings cooler temperatures.

Can sit outside awhile before

sun bakes us again in the summer kiln,

worried our glazes will crack,

risking second degree burns,

from touching the steering wheel,

making grass dry and crispy,

clothes and hair droopy and soggy.