The Garden Shed

Preoccupied with plants and weeds
I ignore the darkening sky,
distant rumble of thunder
that heralds all tropical rainstorms
in humid southern climes.

Too late I reach the garden shed,
dog close upon my heels is soaked.
We squeeze beside discarded pots,
shovel, rake and wheelbarrow
as the rain, mere sprinkles

a few minutes ago, now a deluge
turns the brick walk into a river.
Through the open door we watch –
sheets of rain and soaked Spanish moss
fall – cleanup work for later.

Enough.  Time to step back from details,
enjoy the lightning bolts, the thunder
that shakes the ground beneath our feet,
a frog’s loud rasping huzzah croak
and reminder, “Do not forget the big picture.”

We sit until the storm subsides,
the river becomes brick path again.
An inch of rain fills my tool bucket.
Reluctantly we rise.  The sky still gray
is beautiful and I am now at peace.

Copyright Linda J. Himot - August, 2020