If I Grow Up (8)

If I grow up I want to be a storm

Sweeping across the summer sky

A deluge to wash away the heat and hurt and

Leave the earth cooled and cleansed

Fresh and nourished

Green and growing

Whole and healed.

I want to fill the dry cracks with dancing streams and

Transform the broken paths into bubbling brooks.

I want to raise the reservoirs and

Widen the rivers and

Populate the trails with puddles

Worthy of every skip and stomp that they inspire.

I want to shower the landscape

Not like the hard cold rains of winter

But with big fat water droplets

Tumbling wildly down like a cloud borne waterfall

Catching in the leaves of the giant southern sycamore.

I want to cascade

Down the limbs and trunk

Into the roots of a tree that is always thirsty.

I want to quench that thirst.

I want to linger

Even when the sun has reclaimed

His portion of the sky.

I want to blend his gift with mine and make something promising.

I want to be shaken

from fur, feather and umbrella alike as

Paused creations reemerge into the bustle of life.

I want to be the reset button

To a sultry summer day

To quell the dust of daily life and wash the prints away.

The days are long and shiny

And nights so dark and warm

If I grow up I want to be a storm.