Day 345: Pet Storms

I felt a drop leak out

The mason jar tightly seal

By my own hands

It trickled down the side of the glass

Like sweat on a cold can

Set on fire

Sliding down my hand

The drop turns into a stream

I can’t tell if the rumbles are coming from inside the jar or from my hands

The storm churns and twists and crashes

Lightning striking the lid

Cries for escape

My hand grips the jar

Turning the lid at tight as I can

But nothing stops the storm

I wonder what it will look like

I wonder how it will sound

I wonder what the world will think of the mess I couldn’t contain

The lid shoots off

Like a Mentos under Diet pressure

I drop the glass

It doesn’t break, landing softly in the grass

Dark bullet clouds and lightening showers

Encompass my sight

Absorbed back into the atmosphere

I pick up the jar again

And wait to collect the rain

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