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.

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