On the porch, it\'s ten forty eight pm:
It\'s been a long day, I went a few rounds;
Dogs are inside, I can settle down.
There\'s a storm over the valley:
I count for thunder, in the dark;
Slowly getting closer, but hard to define where it starts, and stops.
The deep grumble gones on for ten seconds, fading in to a crescendo, than fading out.
Definitely a baritone.
All is still: except for one critter, keeping time; like clockwork on the half second.
Lighting lights the sky: it\'s only ten seconds away;
Somewhere, hopefully not here!
The tree\'s might sway?
The earth is thirsty, its been a dry season, I go with the flow, think there must be a reason?
We had a couple of inches last week: maybe not enough to close the oyster industry, but enough for me to pull the weeds, and leave what was left of the herbs.
I\'m a lazy gardener, but for a few years now my crops been incredible!
This year has been to dry for anything to sprout: the rain is increasing; maybe he is breaking my drought?