What is it about the sound of thunder
that lifts my heart
and opens the dappled wings of thought
that I fly (fearful, fearless)
while more sensible birds huddle
sheltered in the trees
down-wrapped against the storm?
What is it about the look of lightning
that splits me open
as it splits the sky
and bares old fears to heat and ozone strike
that illuminates the ways I cling
to old hurts
and orders me to let them fly?
What is it about the smell of rain
that calms me
and makes me think of green things reaching through the soil
and causes the parts of me
long-forgotten, that I thought were dead
to reach up to the rain
and put forth blooms?