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Prairie Storm

Yesterday we got the first thunder-storm of the season.  It wasn’t much by local standards – a handful of crashes that shook the house and then  a half hour or so of intense rain.  No blinding flashes of lightning; no ear-splitting crashes of thunder; no roar of pelting hail – all in all, a “gentle” spring storm.

Today the sun is shining and everything is dry, as though it never happened.  Of course, we all know better.  This benign face is just posturing on the part of the weather gods; to lull us into a false sense of security.  There will be fierce storms in the weeks to come; maybe even tornadoes.

All this ferocity is new to us.  Where we come from it certainly rains; a basic six month rainy season is what passes for late autumn, winter, and early spring there; but it is never this violent.

My first spring here (three years ago) was a startling and curiously exciting introduction to things to come.  Here’s a memento of that time.

Prairie Storm
                1

This South wind is no dancer
no flower-laden breath of spring.

This wild wolf of the prairies
left me without peace or rest.

All night it stalked outside my house;
howling at my windows, lunging at my door;

Waking ancient longings
deep within my feral heart.

               2

This morning I awoke
from fitful dreams
to find the plains
scoured bare
beneath a cloudless sky.

The streets alive
with last year’s brush
the final hangers-on
tumbling,
harried,
racing north
before the hungry wind.

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