Our house faced east
And storms almost always came from the west.
When I was just a kid
I would sit with Dad on the front porch
And watch the storms.
We had wandering conversations
In which I came to understand
Much more about the man.
The rain drove down in sheets
Punctuated by lightning and thunder.
There were long pauses
As we watched the lightning and thunder
Progress the rain would
Sheet down on the thirsty yard.
The front porch’s roof
Would leave us mostly dry.
It felt peaceful really
Despite the noises of thunder
For we were together.
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