Praying for a thunderstorm

[Gyppo]

Praying for a thunderstorm.

It's so hot, and close,
and my spirit is oppressed,
my life-force diminished
as mugginess blankets everything.

An occasional spit of rain does nothing,
 and the speckled pavement dries in minutes.

It's a day to do nothing.

Nothing but pray for a storm, 
to break this stranglehold.
Pray the occasional distant rumbles
become something more positive.

Thunderous roars, or sharp cracks,
vivid flashes, 
and a kerb filling deluge are needed.

If they turn up I'll be stood in the porch,
revelling in the ozone smell
and the chest shaking thuds,
reverberating like heavy gunfire.

My friend says she'll hide under her bed,
terrified.
But for we elementals, 
relishing the cosmic fury,
it's a reset, not a disaster.

And if it doesn't happen,
either this evening or tonight,
I shall feel robbed.

Gyppo
 

[indar]

Hello from California. Closest thing to thunder here is at the beach. We're driving back to my home state of Minnesota on a month-long trip where they know how to do a thunderbanger up right with torrents of rain---or so I remember. You've captured those not-so-dry dry spell well.

[Gyppo]

Cheers, Indar.

I was robbed again.  No storm last night.  Woke up this morning to clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight.  Hey Ho!  We'll survive.

Gyppo

[Dave]

I enjoyed the poem a lot more than you the lack of storm. It caught that feeling wonderfully