Friday, December 23, 2011


After midnight
thunder woke us
the tumbling boulders
I remember from my Atlanta childhood
horizon flashes
followed by vertical zigs & zags
thunder so loud
we flinched & hugged
to the sound of rain
light building to heavy
breezes from windows
until we closed them.
Cataracts spilled from the south roof drain.
Spray filled the air
next to the big north window.
I turned back the rug
shifted the power strip & computers
out of the range of weather.
By now the rain pounded
entered beneath the doors
through the gaps 
between walls & window frames
flooded the upstairs floor
leaked through the ceiling into the bookcase.
With rags & buckets
naked we roamed the house
mopped & wiped
& cursed the builders for promising, sí,
mañana they would seal the house.
Finally, the rain diminished
lightning dimmed
thunder spoke softly from a distance.
We opened windows
lay back down in cooler air
& talked until we slept
till morning.

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