August 8, 2026

leave it to a thunderstorm
rumbling in my bones
as my eyes watch the trees
sway and toss and turn in the intense breeze
to actually get my brain and body and heart to acknowledge
a love for being alive
on this Earth

it feels too emotional
too sincere
to share in any way but poetry
but even the words of poetry feel too simple
for the intensity of the feeling
or too flowery to really embody
the groundedness of the feeling
[though flowers are grounded too, in their growing, are they not?]

how can i explain the feeling of ‘home’
that is this living within all Earth has to offer?
i love her i love her i love her
and maybe that’s the heightened emotions talking
and maybe that’s my experience with many personifications happening
and maybe there’s a distance and a pushing that comes from
writing this hours and hours and after the experience
but my heart feels to bursting with love of this planet
and yet, i know my heart will not explode,
for everything has worked itself out over billions of years
for hearts to not literally engorge with emotion,
but the feelings align with physical signs
my heart seems to fill, to push up at my throat
as that signals to my eyes to fill with tears
just as they did last night
during the thunder and lighting and rain and realization
that i actually
at that moment
and this
love being
alive

and i have the Earth to thank

July 5, 2026

i do not understand
americans —
the insistence on setting off fireworks
when the veterans they purport to support
endure ptsd flashbacks/
when the cities insist it’s a danger in this heat/
when the lightning is lightninging all around them/
and the rain makes the fuses hard to light/
and the legality of it all is kind of..fuzzy…
this “tradition”
[that, like most traditions, is probably not that old at all]
that those who insist on loving america conditional to their understanding of it
also insist on blasting off big fiery booms,
but for whose benefit?
when this anniversary of our independence
the approval rating even inside the country
is at an all-time low —
i don’t understand americans to the point where
i’m insisting on not labeling myself as one
as to distance myself from
the vibe they
emit

[“don’t call me an american,
i’m a new yorker”]

[but new york still had fireworks too tho…]

May 24, 2026

i cannot tell if these rumbles
are planes
or trucks
or general new york sounds
or maybe
just maybe
the actual call of
thunder
through this rainstorm

i want it so desperately to be thunder
but i cannot
cannot
cannot get my hopes up
without
solid
evidence

July 6, 2024

Three Musings on Summer Thunderstorms:

the sky darkens to post-sunset dusky grey
and a lightning bolt passes by my window
the rumble of thunder
the stream of rain
and this summer storm is at it again

[i love this weather]

~~~

thunderstorms make me smile
interrupting the daily toil
of sunrise and shine and set and night
darkening a summer morning
or lightning-flash-brightening
midnight pitch black,
sounds escaping our atmosphere —
booms and cracks and the smacks of hard raindrops
cleansing the air
feeding the ground
offering greener hues when the showers subside
and summertime just isn’t summer
without

~~~

drench me in rain
fill my ears with thunderclaps
and my eyes with bright bolts of lightning

let me taste a summer storm
and offer my nose the delightful scent
of petrichor

as the pressure changes
and my heart grows
and i know
i’m present and whole.

July 18, 2022

i can write
homage
after
ode
after
poem
to my favorite weather event
but it remains just that
‘a weather event’
but i view thunderstorms
as something so much more—

when i was 12 or so,
somewhere around the time
you still believe in magic
but are old enough to know
you shouldn’t,
i held a conversation with a thunderstorm
and i feel like it was one of the last moments
i truly suspended
my disbelief.
i went in knowing it probably wasn’t real
but i decided
that for the duration of the thunderstorm
every boom
was an answer
to a question
and i’d know in my heart
what that answer meant.
and i sat on my porch
and held conference
with the storm
for the entirety
of its travel
over us
and i’ll never forget
that thunderstorm
(and with what little i understand
about weather
it seems entirely plausible to me
that every thunderstorm
is the same thunderstorm
coming back to check on
the one child
who ever showed interest
in its
dreams
and
nightmares.)

and that
is just one reason
out of multitudes
of why
i love thunderstorms
so much.