I can hear the distant thunder as it echos off the high rises
Flashes reflect off glass surfaces and break through palm leaves,
and even though I want to believe it’s the moon shining through my curtains, I know it’s the street lights.
But I want the moonlight. I want the shape of maple leaves to pattern my curtains.
There may be rain tonight or maybe just a threat.
I may miss watching the storm move up from the South,
and I may miss the smell of dust lifted on the wind that rides ahead of the storm.