Sometimes there’s a storm
and lightning cleaves a maple tree in two,
and one half crashes through
the roof of a house
and the other demolishes a neighbor’s garage.
But sometimes, it hasn’t rained in months
and the land and the reservoir
are crying out from thirst,
and this sudden downpour
spurs the soil to growing,
fills those dams
with water to the top.
nothing loves the Earth like weather.
I’ve witnessed the results.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in That, Dunes Review, Poetry East and North Dakota Quarterly with work upcoming in Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Thin Air, Dalhousie Review and failbetter.