Outside it thunders
rumbles warnings
occasionally drops fall like stars
across an unfocused gaze
the bank hisses, its language uncomprehensible
but ever rushing on to an uncared for destination
its so still outside as I sit there drinking my tea
green flecks against a slate blue
mimic the green of grass and the trees around me

An occasional pinprick has me flinching
wary of when the thunder will keep its promise
yet I finish my cup and it is a little red ant
that notifies me of my unwelcome
the thunder still rumbles on outside
uncertain now maybe, stuttering
I ruminate on a pinpoint
one I’ve been circling for months it feels
my realizations bitter on my tongue
on second thought maybe that’s the tea