The tornado green sky spit out
lightning and rain and hail.
I held my umbrella and my chances light in this ice and ion,
Waiting for open heart surgery by lightning.
What could I prove here? suicide-by-weather?
I could prove the weakness of Bradford pears
And earthworms drowning in puddles of pity at my feet
and the futility of matches,
the frailty of bumbershoots and…
by the way
when did nature cease being a foil and start becoming
a mama badger defending her nest,
a frothing dog?
I want to hear it made clear why.
How could it have gone so bad, so fast?
Instead of a whisper or a scream,
Instead of one swift strike…nothing.
I loosed my umbrella,
naked wet and bowed.
Skittering, the clouds break
and cut me
such a coruscating grace:
all things being,
Light and quiet with respite and portent,
needing no words,