A line of rain squalls popped up unexpectedly
On that sunny April afternoon.
The squall line blew a stiff wind before it.
Then, as the sky turned dark,
The wind swirled down and into
The tall flowering pear trees
That form a line of their own
Outside our cubicle windows.
We walked to the windows
To watch the approaching storm
As the wind and the pear blossoms
The white petals of the trees
Swirled up, then around,
Spinning and twirling,
Round and down and all about,
Blowing before us in great clouds --
Vast churning clouds of white pear petals
That obscured the other suburban office buildings
That obscured the black pavement of the parking lots
That obscured the four-lane highway
Filled with commuters
Rushing to get home before the storm.
The petals swirled up and around.
The petals blocked all of that.
We stood at windows
Filled with wonder and delight
At the whirlpool of white
Dancing among new green leaves
Then, just as suddenly as the wind had blown in,
The wind stopped. The storm arrived.
The rain fell in sheets
That knocked the dancing petals to the ground
Where they gathered in puddles,
Swirled atop rivulets of stormwater,
Then rode tiny rushing streams
Along the parking lot's curbs,
And down the storm drains.
We looked out the window
At the grey rain that fell
Across the pavement,
Across the office buildings,
Across the four-lane highway
Across the commuters still rushing home,
Their windshield wipers flapping full speed.
Then we returned to our cubes.