Friday, June 11, 2010


Barefoot, I walk along squares of pavement.
Dodging twigs and fallen leaves
and stepping over cracks,
I make my way to the beach.

I pause for a moment
where the sidewalk ends
and then continue forward,
treading lightly upon ground
already jeweled with the dew of early morning hours.

Under my feet
the wet grass turns to
soft sand and then to
cool, wooden planks.

As expected,
no one has come
to the dock
to watch
the storm traverse the water.
So my legs carry me the length
of the pier
and bring me to halt
at the very edge.

I stand
still and quiet there
overlooking the dark water,
knowing that I am
a part of something
more frightening and mighty
than I could ever imagine.

The proof is in the storm
I've come to witness
move slowly over the lake.
For what seems
like hours
I watch the clouds light up
above the earth.

After each thunder clap
I wait for a new bolt to
splinter through the sky.

My eyes strain to stay open;
I cannot blink for fear of
missing a spark of electricity streak through air
to confuse the darkness,
turning it to daylight
for a moment.

I see a bolt strike ground
far away
and fix my eyes to the spot,
searching the black horizon for another white crack
in the night sky.
Again it strikes
and I wonder
who else saw.

Time passes and
my eyes grow weary;
my lids fighting
the weight of my eyelashes.
I do not want to shut them,

but before long
they are closed
and I am asleep.