The storm looms
throwing electric darts
flowing into alleys like canyons
leaving water behind
to trace the contours of the earth.
I look up, eyes on the heavens
peering at the backlit thunderheads
a shimmering grey
the rest of the sky like the inside of a pearl.
Try to stand tall and steady as I look up
and as the sky
swells and lurches
but motion sickness sets in.
I rediscover a poetic truth:
we live under an atmospheric sea
that whispers, in a desert, there is no greater love than rain.
And I remember a line or two,
“o, madly the sea pushes on the land / with love, with love.”