The window only has to be opened a crack;
An inch or two,
That’s all it takes in order
To feel the hint of rain-cool air
And to hear the subtleties
Of the drops of rain

The thunder, however—
That’s another thing altogether:
Announcing its presence,
Invading through closed doors and windows,
Conquering the airspace
Within and without
And proclaiming,
“Today’s a day for sleeping in,
Or for sitting and watching
The weather work its magic
On the suburban landscape
That you forget
Does not belong to you.”