As your cloud turned dark, then darker,
like a fool I stood in the meadow—
angry after a quarrel
with my beloved—distracted,
careless with myself. An old habit.
I opened my mouth to taste rain,
invited Lightning to amuse me.
Oh Thunder, you are the good god:
you tried. You spoke, you rumbled,
but I refused your warning
until you lowered yourself,
cracked hard over my head.
In retrospect, I see that was love.
I yelped, I ran into the house,
but Thunder, you were not finished.
You followed me, you shook the house,
until I crouched on the living room rug,
a small, heart-palpitating mammal:
finally, I remembered the old humility—
yes Thunder, yes. Thank you.
— from Juniper Volume 5, Issue 3