I turned just far enough
in my chair to see
through the window to the trees
outside as the storm pounded
the concrete with surprising fury
lightning cut the sky into white ribbons
thunder echoed between the buildings
I thought
not moving
about where I stored the candles
should the power go out
again
what would I do in the morning
if the power still is not on
and I have to work?
I cannot leave the apartment
anxiety mounts
it still storms outside
inside
The power is out across the street
I watched lightning strike
straight down to the ground
like an arrow
alone in the darkness
I go into the other room
to find the source of a beep
I hear every time more lightning hits
I ask myself as I go
why was it not enough
to just turn
and watch the storm?
~
day 6
national poetry month
