Thunderstorm on Theodore Roosevelt Island

The rain painted your hair
black, slick as the mud
beneath cattails leaning
in the wet wind. Blossoms
of Queen Anne’s Lace bobbed
with each spark of blue light
as a monarch darted
from the pattering that impended
behind jittery pines. You followed
the butterfly’s fitful spiral with eyes
darker than the earth
between our toes, deeper than
the Potomac as it lay unruffled,
pelted by silver.

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