Lightning
By Mary Oliver
The oaks shone
gaunt gold
on the lip
of the storm before
the wind rose,
the shapeless mouth
opened and began
its five-hour howl;
the lights
went out fast, branches
sidled over
the pitch of the roof, bounced
into the year
that grew black
within minutes, except
for the lightening - the landscape
bulging forth like a quick
lesson in creating, then
thudding away. Inside,
as always,
it was hard to tell
fear from excitement:
how sensual
the lightning’s
poured stroke! and still,
what a fire and a risk!
As always the body
wants to hide,
wants to flow toward it - strives
to balance while
fear shouts,
excitement shouts, back
and forth - each
bolt a burning river
tearing like escape through the dark
field of the other.
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I had trouble keeping my eyes open most of the day on Tuesday, and I'm not sure whether this is a delayed vaccine reaction or delayed cat stress; I think I slept okay overnight and I didn't have too much sugar or caffeine on Monday or anything. So I feel like I got nothing done, apart from enjoying the weather and dyeing my roots, which were not artfully gray but icky beige.
My Voyager-watching group watched "Alliances" which is just as bad as I'd remembered from previous viewings -- tempers flare, bad decisions are made, Janeway makes a very sanctimonious speech. Supergirl was more fun with its high school flashback and alien invaders despite a lack of Lena. Here are some azalea photos from our visit to Garrett Park last weekend:
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