Wind blows through, bringing weather —
trees send the signal along the ridge,
pressure drops, flotsam falls from branches
prefiguring the coming rain

There is no stress within the mounting rush —
it comes with patience, each development
in its appointed time —
soft rolls of thunder, turkeys gobbling in response,
moving patches of darkened fields and sky

Then the showers, quick and cleansing as our tears,
here and there, sweeping through briefly,
wetting grasses, trees and roads

Then the angelic sunset
riding with us as we headed home,
touching down, reminding us of grace.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 24, 2018