Before the Storm

1

Walls, window-frames -
the air's pulse
thickens to livid white.

I remember my father's
greenhouse, raftered
with humming vines,

the blown tomatoes
mouthing their split skins
in a scented heat

and my toy can. Dad
fitted its nozzle. Apprentice
rain-maker I became . . .

Happy, I brought
dark spots to the earth.
I cooled everything


2

but everything is not cooled.
Packed in their white feathers
...