A country where the thunder goes

Does everyone take the weather personally, or is that just my family? I grew up in arid Colorado, believing that rain was a blessing and a curse. Precipitation was a welcome nuisance, like a spiteful leprechaun, coming and going unexpectedly, leaving boobytrapped pots of gold. My mother would say things like, “Naturally it rained the one time I forgot my umbrella/ didn’t close my windows,” or, “if I wash my car, it will rain the next day.”

my dog takes cover;
growling on the horizon,
the storm clouds threaten

In Virginia, storms are like houseguests who’ve worn out their welcome. The thunderstorm on the first day is exciting, the next gray days of drizzle seem endless, and when the rain finally departs, it leaves a big mess behind. My mom says, “I wish you could send some of your weather to Colorado. We really need it.” Believe me, if I could, I’d pack its bags and put it on the next plane!

rain falls on picnics,
funerals and bazaars,

If thunder and lightning are persons, where do they go when they disappear?
Does lightning go first and book a room?
Will thunder grumble if lightning reads all night?
And what’s with the rainbow showing up late in a purple-trimmed dress?
I could go on and on, wondering about the weather.
Meanwhile, the green landscape beckons as I look at the sky from behind closed doors.
In a moment of clarity, I decide to go outside to enjoy the sun.

Inspired by dVerse and GoDoGoCafe

“It’s better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes.” Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Truman Capote

“…our Father in heaven… causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” Matthew 5:45

High tide mark after a storm


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