A frenzied storm
beats rain against the stone
sides of our house in Ohio.
Thunder calls out its name
and echoes dance down a scalloped
forest of clouds disrupting exquisite stillness,
weaving sky music under rain.
The house shakes and Boon barks.
A sentinel in the window seat,
he waits for Jules and her Jeep
to scream around the corner
down past the silos
back to the village from Ottawa,
and the store that carries his bones.