Storms Rumble Over Parched Fields

This afternoon, thunderstorms rumbled
Across the summer sky, apprehensive as they
Moved across the fields, looking at dry land,
Wondering where to lessen heavy burden,
Bless with moist kiss an arid Earth.
Growling like black dogs
Looking for a place to sleep,
They circled over waiting hills and lake,
Thirsty beds of streams hoping….
Dry grass begging to be noticed by
Liquid eye and falling tears,
But frightened by fiery unsheathed sword.
Perhaps I should wash the car,
Hang out laundry on the line to dry,
Tempt the clouds to spoil my labor,
Bring from sacrifice a cooler breeze.
Would you care to join the effort,
Wax my car for me in stormy weather?


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