Waiting for July

fun with pause.

First summer storm for a while now, years maybe,
and the sky is the color of deepest love tonight.
Waiting is difficult if you ignore this brilliance.
I wish there was a better word for lightning. I wish it hard,
standing barefoot in the driveway, gazing
up at that flashing sky. I can smell it burn,
can feel the neighbors' eyes on me from a distance.
I'm guessing they're guessing that if I get struck,
I just went out and asked for it.

Starts to rain eventually, little warm drops
sliding down my bare shoulders, whispering
at my eyelashes, my lips, and still I
am just not caring. Blinking distractedly,
watching the black explode into blue,
feeling the aching thunder under my feet,
rattling into my chest. Boom, like a heartbeat
a thousand times stronger, the way I feel
when I hear love calling my name. The way
we've spent a lifetime waiting for July.

 

Broader flashes, one that make you wait
like a slow-fading turn signal in the night.
There--then gone. Bright and captivating,
strikes against my eyes. My lashes flutter again;
I catch my breath. For a moment I wonder 
if this is anything like getting high but I remember
winter concussions, colors dancing behind the dark
and my smile cuts through the humidity.
There is power, marvelous power, pounding
out in the storm before me.