Waiting for you

I sit here in Sheridan,
waiting for you.
I observe the chaple across the street,
and it's trees, dominated with purple leaves.
Lightning dances overhead,
in the summer skies of Wyoming.
I count the seconds between flashes and thunder,
1,2,3,
and not so very away.
It begins to rain,
as I sit here in Sheridan,
waiting for you.