Midwestern Rain

The smell of a heavy, unruly storm

drifts into the open windows.

A periodical show for the plains to watch.

A musical it starts the routine—

Explode.

Dark.

Heavy.

Loud.

Just as quickly as it rolled in,

the world falls quiet

For the final credits, and

Standing misty standing ovation.

A delicate peace like the butterfly’s wings

That only approaches this house in moments

Such as these.

My lungs expand to hold

The smell of the midwest rain

As it fades gently away in the plain.

I wish for it to come back—

And carry me away.

By Morgan Baker