Frogtown Serenade

The storm
comes rolling in
out of the east…
just like it does every
afternoon…
between three and four…
you can almost 
set your watch by it…
        a rolling cloud…
        that first looks
        like the ugly color
        of a big black eye…
        stretching across the sky
        from one end to the other…
        then as the wind rises
        it changes to 
        indigo black…
dark, water-filled 
tails whip off from
the leading edge…
lightning shoots from
its soft underside…
thunder rattles the
windows and sends all
the black birds,
sea gulls, and jays racing
off to the west…
chasing the sun..

the first
heavy drops
slap against the roof,
the sidewalk, 
and the steaming
asphalt in the street…
        in a moment
        the bottom falls out
        and the rain arrives 
        with a torrential roar…
the temperature drops…
cold air gusts through
the palms and pines…
lightning jabs the ground
close enough to touch…
followed by cannon
shots of thunder
that crack and boom…
cats and dogs run…
people jump
as they cover their ears
to the frightful barrage…

the storm drops
to a heavy, steady rain…
the rhythm…
a broken staccato 
on the roof…
dripping
from the eaves…
        I lie on my bed…
        the cool breeze 
        moves through the
        open window…
        the air is clean…
as I slip into
a contented sleep
listening…
a smile on my face
for the choir…

another rainy eve
spent with bullfrogs
and green,
tree peepers…
        a Frogtown Serenade…

R. C. Arquette
6/20/08