Where does thunder rumble?
Does it choose a place to be?
Or does it merely stumble
As it heads on out to sea.
Today it sounds like boulders
Rolling and grinding around
The heavens look much colder
As heat lifts off the ground.
I hope the farmers managed
To bring in all their crops
The harvest quickly salvaged
Before the rain could drop.
As a child I’d watch the sky
A flash, then count- one, two, three
How far away? Let the count be high
Four, five, six…was it out to sea?
The crash and rumble telling
The storm was miles away.
What was it we were smelling?
Sweet petrichor and hay.
Rhiannon Dowding - Writer 