There are seasons to storms
And lessons learned -
Folklore to follow
For harvests earned.
“Thunder in February
means frost in April,”
Said my Uncle Robert
on his 88th birthday,
Teaching me the signs.
My mother would say,
“It’s thundering down in the thicket.”
A gentle rumble,
Almost humble,
Can awaken us from sleep.
Weather breeders
Build,
White clouds looming,
Too quiet and perfect,
Pent to release in darkness,
Booming.
Hidden wrath
Tempestuous wail
Roaring wind
Scattering hail
Do you think we don’t know
You are there
Rending the sky
For cooler air?
Artwork by S. Mitchell
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