when i was younger,
i often joined the adults
on our neighbor’s porch,
snacking on cheese & crackers,
the adults sipping red wine (it’s
good for the heart)—-& the distant
sound of thunder rolling in

God, Jesus, & all the angels—-
they’re up in Heaven bowling

God’s just rearranging the furniture,
up there in Heaven

Oh no, one of the angels
must have accidently dropped a plate

maybe even once (much more risque):
God, Jesus, & the angels are just
up in Heaven playing a round of poker

i would ponder these force-fed
explainations as i laid in bed,
lulled by the crash of thunder, heavy
rain, & spark of lightning in the window

now, i accept a storm for what it is—-
a bath, a clean slate, a fresh start

& i enjoy the lapse in thunder,
the ease of rain to just a sprinkling
in order to save a turtle from the road
& watch the cows graze their now-damp
field with the sun peaking through
the clouds