Pulled into Wildness

 Pulled into Wildness

Late afternoon on a hot and humid day.

As I walk home, I sense a change in the air,

A pause around me as birds stop their singing,

A heaviness in the atmosphere, a quietness

  that is the beginning of something coming.

A panorama of clouds fills the wide open sky,

Hazy and dull in the east, dark and looming in the west,

And in the sky’s center, storm clouds moving fast toward me,

Changing shape as they travel,  hovering nearer the ground.

Lightning streaks from high to low as thunder rumbles in the distance.

I stand still, waiting, watching, my breath coming slowly.

A solitary raindrop falls at my feet, and then another.

And suddenly a torrent of rain comes down around me

  as I rush to the shelter of my front porch.

Loud sounds of raindrops fill the air, steady and hard.

And then comes the wind, whipping tree limbs, 

Whirling the garden of flowers and ferns nearby.

And piercing through the storm blares the siren from City’s center:

Tornado warning! Be alert! Take shelter! Danger!

As I sit on my porch, surrounded by wind and wet,

I look out at the horizon, wondering if, almost hoping

  that this tornado will appear, will come close.

I feel a magnetic attraction to this whirling dervish of energy.

I am pulled in my mind toward the center of the storm, 

As it surges to the north, passing us by.

Slowly the tumult quiets, the rain slackens, the wind disappears. 

I am ready to go inside, the excitement over, when a text arrives:

“Have you seen the double rainbow?” Oh my goodness,  I think,

Racing to the other side of my home.

And sure enough, in the southern arc of sky

Linger two glowing rainbows, a parting gift to the watchers.