This morning the yellow orange light
that foretells a storm
fell upon the brick wall
opposite my kitchen window
as at the sink I turned on the water
and washed clean a cereal bowl.
I poured some Cheerios into the bowl
and turned on the overhead light.
From the sink, still, the dripping water
as outside, the coming storm
threatened the window,
made for the kitchen's exterior wall.
In anticipation a spider scurried up the wall
as I poured milk into the bowl
and pulled the curtains from the window
that I might let in whatever light
there was, as well watch the storm,
which just now was offering its first drops of water.
I watched the so sweetly falling water
as, with the spider on the wall,
I felt this is what it is to be in a storm
at breakfast, the glistening bowl
of Cheerios, the sweet but foreign light
like a film across the window.
I opened the window
unafraid of the glancing water,
its entrance into the room so light,
falling lightly down the kitchen wall
as a single Cheerio fell spoon to bowl
stirring up a small milky storm.
Oh, that I might swim in such a storm
as this, might open wide the window
and slip into the rain as a spoon into a bowl,
cheer for it, how the water
finds me, alert as a spider on a wall,
soaking in the yellow orange light.
Finally I dove into the bowl of Cheerios, the storm
waning, the light shining through the window,
the spider and the water still clinging to the wall.