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Reservoir Storm

by Mary Brunini McArdle

It’s sunset, but the light’s obscured –
A storm approaches.
It hesitates at the reservoir’s rim,
Like a virgin
Shy before her suitor’s readiness.

Deep thunderheads sulk in the east,
A dingy white, while in the west
The sky fades out to yellow.
Between the two
The dark column of rain rears
Above the water,
The crests jet black and churning.

The wooing’s unsuccessful.
The storm begins to dissipate,
Fog billows at the horizon
Leveling it to the eye,
Overhead the inverted bowl invisible.
A sailor centuries ago
Witnessed that climatic courtship
And understood the Earth was flat.

Copyright © 2008 by Mary Brunini McArdle

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