Watching Storms Roll By

eight a.m., the sun is shining, blue sky, warm;
at ten the wind picks up from the west, the
roses shake on their long stems, waiting for
ten a.m. dark clouds rolling in from the west,
ten ten, the heavens open, lightning spears
penetrating the damp earth, thunder rolling
across the skies, shaking the house.
the sun shines, blue sky, warmth on
the roses still staggering from the storm.
noon, dark clouds clustered around the foothills
to the west, as the wind picks up, they move
in, darkening as they coalesce into
black thunderheads, roaring from
a distance, lighting up the skies,
torrential rain pounds the city,
moves on, leaving behind soaked but
grateful lilies, still attached to long stems
by the mailbox, hesitant to fully relax.
two p.m. the sun shines, blue sky,
darkness gathers in the west for a repeat,
the roses, lilies, geraniums, coreopsis and I
all gaze in astonishment as the winds
pick up to gale force, blowing our faces
like windmills to the east, drenching us,
as if we didn’t know any better.