I wait

I wait
in the old swing
close my eyes and lean back
hoping for a breeze.

It brings no relief
against the swelling heat
melting ice in my glass.

Sheets crack in the wind
pulling me from my thoughts.

I rise
causing the rusted chains
to groan at my movement
dry as the dust
growing on the horizon
reaching for the ominous clouds
you thunder down the road
and I wait for the storm.

© Michele (Guard) Markley 1998