My Own Rain Dance
Plants swaying, beautiful sky, softest feeling
Clouds crusted in white with gray centers
An unexpected warmth to the air this morning.
Any hope of rain? I peer at the clouds, not knowing.
Decide to lug the hoses around and water my flowers.
A few minutes after I water the lawn, I hear a gentle roar.
Thunder? I am not surprised. Always happens after I water.
Me watering is tantamount to a Native American Rain Dance.
Suddenly I realize what the rumbling sound is.
Garbage truck lifting the large dumpster, every other Tuesday.
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