99poems/thunder

Humming bird in
the bottle brush tree,
a bit of sun breaks through
at the end of a cloudy day.
A rumbling thunder
in the night brought
our noise-sensitive cat
into the bed.
Shards of lightning
that made me fearful
of the window glass.
Chaos is breaking out –
two people dead
at the lake where we live,
in only four days.
A cyclist run over,
age 50,
out celebrating
a first anniversary
with his wife.
I cannot shake
the sorrow of it,
yellow crime tape
in place of the fence
that the careening car
took out.

Round and round
our house,
the helicopter flew
before we knew
why. I went out
to smell for fire,
to look for smoke,
flames creeping
up – or down
the mountain,
which is when
the helicopters
usually come.

I had heard the crash,
but did not associate
the helicopter with it.
A person does not
give much resistance
to an automobile,
and so, makes little noise.

His leg ripped off,
you crept closer,
saw them cover him up.
I could not.
You think there
is no reason
to shrink away
from life, but
I chose to not intrude,
his passing such
a public event.

This thing does
not heal for me,
by the trail where
I usually walk,
I have not walked
since.
Days later,
I pass someone
out measuring
the spot –
what a job
to have.

The story inside
the second section,
hardly makes the news.
All this death
and dismemberment
in the paper
was someone’s life,
we just rarely
know whose.

And then this morning
on my way to the doctor,
a car has gone off the road
into the lake.
The driver does not survive.

You tell me not to worry,
remind me that the shoot out
you passed coming home
last night,
makes number three.

Ah, these are
the little comforts
that keep me going.
I arrive too late
to see the doctor.
I don’t care, I say
to the parking lot,
I still love life.

6/2/99