hearing thunder for the first time this year

thunder crumples the sky up into a ball
of pen-stained paper clouds bleeding grey
from the puddles of water gathering before they
leave

splattering drops
separate into smaller spots
blurring the view out of my window
of the darkening sky

lightning flashes somewhere
the bright burst of current is not visible to me now
in my well-lit room

crisp pages flip as leaves on trees turn
into a sea of rustling papers,
a library of noise
ripped into pieces by the
crushing rejection
of crumpling pages
motioned by thunder.