Monsoon Season

by Mary F. Richards ©1993

    Clouds come late from the east
    Where they form over the mountains,
    Waiting to surround us slowly
    Toward evening. They fill in warily
    Around the sun-blanched valley,
    Kept at bay by the heated air
    Of the afternoon. Down the walk
    The cat brings a lizard, importantly,
    To eat in the protected grass of home.
    A sprinkler fans a path
    Across the neighbors’ yard.
    Should I bestir myself
    To do the same,
    Or wait for Nature? No,
    It’s nicer to indulge one’s lethargy
    On the patio, and watch
    The light fade on the grapefruit tree,
    While the cat chases the half
    Which somehow got away.