Late Morning Rain

In the morning, when the clouds hang low

I see the lightning coming.

I sing a song of long ago.

The morning cold is numbing.

By noon the rain is falling,

With hail stones here and there.

I hear the thunder calling,

With lightning everywhere.

When it rains do I shudder

Or run and hide in cover,

Or listen to the drops,

Or pause, run, then hover.

Do I watch for other people

And find out what they do,

Or do I steal a glance toward heaven

And softly say thank you.