And washed away all remnants of the heat
As thunder shouted orders to the sky
And broken leaves and branches on the fly
Left traces on a stained glass window pane.
My heart beats raced within the pulse of rain
That flattened pansies in a window box
And left a tangled mess of broken stalks.
At, three years old, he gave a shout of joy.
A storm is magic to a little boy
Who's safe and warm with daddy at his side.
He sees adventure, not a need to hide.
© 2010 Pam H. Murray
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