Summer Thunderstorms

Thick air, The heavy break of Rain, Builds painfully slow, As to be almost illegible.

It builds and builds with no end in sight, Stifling all blanketed in its port of repose, A shallow depression system.

Droplets arrive first by smell, On the horseback of a stirring breeze, Rousing other horses, Who, like pups meeting anew, Pause, then chase, then pause again, In fervent anticipation, In rapt observance, Of signs of Joy.

But first, the Rain! O! Finally! Thundererous weeps, Flashes of Truth, Moments of clarity, Counting seconds between, Observing the release, Sturm und Drang.

It gives sense to the languish, And that meaning permits new aesthetic-emotional experiences, A nostalgia, affection, and appreciation, For a cooking show host's tender peace, Simple praise and bearing-witness to life's struggles, A cease-fire zone in an anxious world. Permission for droplets.

"Mono no aware" for the impermanence of my own life and the passing away of things I love, Mixes gently, With consolation, In the recurrence and endurance of other things I love, Like milk in tea.