Rainstorm

The sky burst open, a popped balloon dumping water with childish hands

onto the unsuspecting city rolling past below–summer rainstorms in Michigan

obey no one.  The whoosh of the full-bellied clouds drowned out the steady

thrum of my air conditioner’s constant summer soundtrack, the sun gleaming

in silent defiance through the streams pouring from the gutters.  A sudden

stop, quick as the start, and the trees missed the memo with a secondary

thunderstorm pouring from their indignant branches.  The heated road

steamed, smoke-skinned tendrils reaching to the heavens in worship, in

lazy supplication of the summer light, slithering over my neighbors’

close-clipped curb and slinking back to their asphalt home.  The trees

shook off the last of their undignified drenching, settling in for the

humid Michigan night as the steam wandered off to catch the Top

of the Park, all of us bending toward the music starting up again, despite.

***

JD Waggy (ze/zir | he/him) lives on the west side of Ann Arbor and, when not writing, is reading nearly everything before the books take over the house.  Ze loves a good thunderstorm and was delighted to have an unexpected summer shower after many days of pure sunshine recently, even if the sun didn’t have the decency to hide away during it.

***

This is an original poem, brought to you by Poet Tree Town, an Ann Arbor-based poetry-in-public initiative and celebration of local Washtenaw poets. Find out more about Poet Tree Town on Instagram and Facebook, or say hello at [email protected].