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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #2294816
Weather can change quickly. Sometimes it is not for the best.
As I sat in the empty extra bedroom,
I noticed that the early western sky was a lovely blue.
It did not take more than a couple of minutes fall asleep.
I was asleep with my special cat June on my lap.
It was spring and the room felt cool.
All was quiet until, my watch timer buzzed to wake me.
Instead of a lovely clear sky, there were dark clouds gathering.
Wind bent the young trees. June had found an old toy.
As predicted, the cold front was preparing to move into our area.
A sound of thunder could be heard. Ducks were moving out of the pond.
The last of the employed neighbors were hurrying off to work.
Without warning, a loud clap of thunder shook the house.
After the thunder ended, the sky seemed very dark.
The cold front was gathering wind, clouds and rain to show that the meteorologists were off their prediction by 30 minutes.
It would soon rain. More thunder would boom the front's arrival.
My husband could weed the garden no more. He was finished for the day. The cold front could toss around whatever it could find to launch into the air. June was hiding under a table.
I could try to write more poems about storms, my dreams or how June liked to ride on my mother's old walker. But I chose to watch the storm pass through our area.
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