Metal roof
machine gun fire,
strobe lightening
and rolling thunder:
cracks rip black
with jagged light,
redbud silhouettes
dance with the dark
like the Fillmore,
like the Shrine—
endless bass
rocks the canyon,
canons bark with flame
and the war goes on and on.
Moist breath,
eager heart electrified
not to be contained
within old skin.
On stage:
the Doors
Janis Joplin wild with
Jimi Hendrix crescendos.
Last flashes break with dawn.
Inch-seventeen all in the ground—
she hasn’t lost her touch
with how to make it rain.
Drove up Dry Creek Road today to Hartland to pick up Mt Whitney High choir kids. Pleasantly wet ground and clean air.
LikeLike
A very pleasant change, Lew. She made mud!
LikeLike
That sounds like quite a storm- you capture what it was like to be in it quite well I think.
LikeLike
Though I’ve seen it rain harder many times, more violent and long a light show as I can remember. Unbelievable and welcome.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nothing was hit by lightning near you I hope..I enjoy the drama with a touch of fear.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Feeling it 🙂 !!!!
Bring it on.
LikeLike