watch a storm

from afar, removed—

watch as the wind

whips up and chatters

of birds break beaks.

watch as the sound

doubles back and the

barometer plummets.

your pulse quickens

and you can begin

to feel the storm’s balm

on your flesh. Watch.

petrichor blossoms

a second, a breath

before the first—splat.

that scent you inhale,

savor, now hold

on your tongue. That’s

the first taste of a storm—

mouthful a poem.