Gray Waiting

The wind is breathless,

her face is red.

The barometric pressure

does a strip tease 

behind the curtains.

The clouds are pregnant,

screaming thunder.

The trees shrink

behind the shed

for fear of hail.

The sun scoots to the mall

for a sale on umbrellas.

We’re all waiting for the drops to fall.

We’re waiting for the rain.

published on Sonnets to Sing