QUIET LIGHTNING

I step outside and see the lightning.

It is dry, there is no formal resound

of thunder, only a pulse of light

dancing with itself among the molecules

of this steamy atmosphere where rain once fell.

There is no more awe of air

or all that happens above my pay grade.

Only the grave sight resignation

that much beyond my porch

is far from my control.

I have walked among both

the rain drops and the tombstones.

I am touched by neither;

they have become oddities to me.

Water, undrinkable comes from above,

eroding the stone reminders

of a person once living forgotten,

now decaying ‘neath the marker,

‘cept by etching remembered.

Such is my own plan,

to be undrinkable

to be unremembered.

My own nothingness will be

a solace for my soulless being.

The lightening glows

for a moment

then disappears

I do like the way of quiet lightening.

© M Durfee

7/28/16

(2) 12/2020

Editing is a chore, a tedious, but necessary, undertaking. I am determined to get some of my shit edited even if...well I am determined. God bless you all, near and far, healthy and not, freedom loving or not.

1 more year ought to see us through the pandemic not the editing!