I sat on the front porch and watched the Theater of Rain.
"I hope it doesn't last too long," I thought.
"I hope it doesn't flood the street," I thought.
"Or seep into the basement. Or reveal the structural inadequacies of the roof," I thought.
"I hope it doesn't have a dramatic final act wherein a lightning bolt fells a tree, taking out an innocent bystander watching from her front porch," I thought.
"Perhaps I should have cleaned the gutters," I thought.
"Or gotten around to sorting those old boxes in the basement," I thought.
The Theater of Rain did not care what I thought.
"The show must go on," rumbled the sky.
Later, I thought to applaud
but never did.