Changeable Weather

[The beginning of this was written a couple of weeks ago on the pad of paper I carry in my purse.]



Changeable Weather


There is spitting
as I enter the tunnel,
and the waving of blue
seaweed tendrils
thumping and pounding.
A sudden rainstorm
beats down and sideways,
leaving everything wet,
and small bubbles appear.
A shift of weather
sends a roar of wind,
hot air drying everything.
At last the dark curtain rises
and I pull out into the
bright sunlight
and head away
from the carwash
to run the rest of my errands.