Small Gifts

The barometer is dropping, skies filled with scudding clouds

Which gather into towers, bottoms dark as funeral shrouds

Winds, that once were calm, now cause the flags to stand out straight

And whip the water into waves with faces dark as slate.

The smell of dampened pavement, on the breeze, precedes the rain

Then one by one cloud droplets fall on dry earth as a stain.

Sheets of water follow, sharp lines are less defined

Gutters overflowing, their grates with twigs entwined.

Playing, splashing children, soaked to skin, they are not shy

Their parents with umbrellas, shoulders hunched, to keep them dry.

Uneven thunder rumbles, distant lightning stabs the ground,

As static lifts the hairs on neck and sets the heart to pound.

How wonderful in which the Nature shows her power

A jewel in Mother Earth’s great crown, a simple thunder-shower.

An observational poet from Cincinnati, Ohio. I was a carpenter and a boatbuilder and am fascinated by the infinite intricacies of our world, from the smallest to the largest.

Leave a Reply