Waiting Poem by dave lessard

Waiting for the storm
the sky's as black as night
the air is thick and still
I marvel at its sight.
On the porch, with Jax
we sit, so patiently
for the coming rain
or whatever else may be.
Waiting on the storm
it's just a breath away
coffee and zucchini bread
help while the time this day.
A breeze begins to stir
soon, the wind will blow
perhaps some rain or hail
but honest, I don't know.
Waiting for the storm
that may or may not come
but wait - I hear the thunder
rumbling like a drum.