by Onna Solomon
I watch the trees bow to it
At the edge
of the covered porch
I listen to its din
take over pour over
rooftops flooding
the gutters
I breathe the wet
drama of it—
but before
the rain even stops
my view fastens into blue
and I step out
my bare feet sinking
into the sopping grass
to see it blooming
swiftly south
as the late sun
illuminates its billows
it looks like
the unfurling fist of
a peony or a dancing
phalanx of bodies I don’t know
what it looks like
alone watching it morph
wishing for
another witness
A neighbor
shouts from across the street
Any rainbows?
and I say No, but
you have to see this
and she crosses over
to my yard up on the hill
the cloud performing
above the close-set houses
and more neighbors emerge
all of us lifting
our faces as the roiling edges
turn purple and orange
until the thing disappears
over the rooftops
and everyone says
Thank you thank you
Listen to the poem here:
Photo credit: Onna Solomon
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Onna Solomon is a writer, social worker, library enthusiast, and “dance party mastermind.” She is the author of the poetry chapbook Disorder and her writing has appeared in Beloit Poetry Journal, Cimarron Review, Denver Quarterly, Dunes Review, and Hobart, among others. She lives in the Old West Side of Ann Arbor. This poem was inspired by a true meteorological event that brought an Ann Arbor neighborhood together in awe.
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This is an original poem, brought to you by Poet Tree Town, a Washtenaw-based poetry-in-public initiative and celebration of local poets. Find out more about Poet Tree Town on Instagram and Facebook, or say hello at [email protected].
