The Thunderstorm’s Approach

The pressure in the air is full of birdsong.
The heat declares its presence everywhere.

The faintest smell of apple blossoms and of grass
comes greeting through the window on the swell.

The cooling breeze comes to caress my hair,
to lighten up the air and tensions ease.

We’re waiting for the thunderstorm’s approach;
it let’s us wait – uncaring for reproach.

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