Before the Rain

I sit on the cabin porch

and wait for the rain,

listening to thunder

and the rattle of the neighbor’s tractor

as he tries to get his grass mowed in time.

The wind comes up, the daisies and the firs

send message —

I can smell it, I will see it soon

A doe is nonchalantly

grazing in the meadow,

little birds are quiet

while trucks keep rolling home,

and the rain is here

fresh and rhythmic on the roof,

the place we are suddenly grows small

but we are dry

and there is room enough.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 27, 2019