The Porch Cats

That morning was humid and windy, 
one of those days when you can smell a storm coming, 
clouds moving across the sky, 
black and grey, 
the color of slate, 
threatening. 

Rainy day, 
blackened sky, 
the wind knocked down a branch by the old brown house, 
breaking a part of the fence, 
scattering the porch cats, 
to a safer spot,
under the house. 

Around noon, 
when the cats were scurrying from the sound of the atmospheric music, 
pounding windows and the metal roof. 

That symphonic sound of thunder, 
displeasing the cats who were once so content to sit on the porch, 
flicking their tails. 

T.S. Deary 
4/11/24 

#cats