Lightning Over There

Lightning over there
already.

Here, we’re still just
waiting for it. Sitting outside
watching the sky over 
the far hills blink red, listening to
the late rumble that follows. 

It’s got a few miles to go yet
before it gets here, 
if it does get here — 
might only get a few drops,
might get a deluge
and a firestorm.

A few years ago
a big one took down
all the power here on the hill
and tore a branch off
the maple out back 
that was the size of a tree
all by itself.

We stared at it
lying there the next day,
adjusting to how different
the backyard looked now
in changed, unfiltered light.
I try to remember
what it looked like before that
and fail. 

So:
lightning over there,
and here there’s nothing
yet. We sit and shiver
from experience
of how much can be erased
in no time at all.

We say
maybe it won’t be that bad.
We don’t say
maybe it will be worse,

even though the sky
is as red
as a torn heart.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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