in thunder we trust

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thunder rumbled in and knocked on our window
“happy weather!” you cried gleefully
in the voice of an eight-year-old child
i went to the window and tried
to rumble back–rahr, rahr, rahr
and you laughed, so did i
we dashed to the laundromat
wearing elegant bags of laundry on our heads
the rain was loud, large, and short
(alas thunderstorm, you were more bark than bite)
we reemerged with groceries in hand
in awe of the pink-tinted sky
allowing the essence of natural neon to hue the neighborhood
the cabs became orange and the buildings rose
our faces glowed
while the sky settled into shades of milky green
then slate, then grey
as darkness shed her cape over us all
and lulled us into sleep

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