Stormed

Late this afternoon, three small patches of blue sky drifted north amid tumbled clouds, like an ellipsis in the storm. They were nowhere near the sun, but later another opening let the light through, to make the drops of water still clinging to the leaves and lawns glitter brightly. Chattering woodpeckers gathered on the telephone pole and pecked the wet wood. An unseen hawk cried several times. The mountains remained unseen as well, buried by softer mountains of gray vapors. The western clouds soon closed again, but later, the southern clouds drew apart and admitted enough of the setting sun's light to robe themselves with luminous tatters of red and mauve. Nightfall brought no moon, but brief showers fell and filled the still air with a sound like someone thumbing through the pages of a book. There might be more heavy rain tonight, and maybe the clouds will descend to wreath the forest with a fog. I'll read that story.

( Sunday Verse )