The Haifa sky is roaring tonight, except
Neither rockets, nor jets, but the
Most delicious storm is rolling through.
My eyes burn a bit and I want to sleep, but I'm
Loathe to miss even a single crack or
Lash of rain against my window.
No matter what, it's always been too long.
In NY, maybe once every few years we'd get a windowpane shaker, but even those were
Nothing compared to those daily storms that
Marked my Florida summer youth.
Age twelve, I'd run,
Ill advised out to soggy golf course across the street
To twirl in the drops,
catch
As many as I could in my curls
My dad used to say I was a duck.
(He wasn't half wrong. )
But now I'm being silly
Drowning in nostalgia when right now
Right here —
The cracks and lashes already decrease in frequency.
Oh, now, regrets:
Already, it all sounds so much further away.
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