the secret

I am the weirdo on my porch

in the rain
under an umbrella
as the storm rolls in.

Criss cross apple sauce in stretchy pants
with a beer and a journal
breathing in the scent of the rain,
noting…

the birds are silent,
yet the thunder rumbles
to fill the empty space.

(I am no longer empty.)

Raindrops bounce like kids
on a trampoline.
Trees dance and sway
to the bass of the thunder.
It’s not too rough too windy too much
for the robin looking
for worms for her young who chirp

of their hunger
from a distance.

(I am no longer hungry.)

The water flows to the edges
of the curb to the sewer.
The thunder spreads to the edges
like an airplane crashing through a cloud.

As the storm expands
The wind moves my hair
the ants retreat and huddle
with me afraid to drown.

(I am no longer afraid I’ll drown.)

In this moment
I am a kid in a fort
Under my umbrella
Me and the ants watching it all

Like it was a secret
only I knew…

The storm can be beautiful.