As is my usual thing, this poem and blog post springs off another, a poem by Susan Mitchell posted on Whiskey River first lined "Once driving west of Billings, Montana"...
The idea of a lightning strike in the road and running into it was so impressive I had to do something with it.
Heat Lightning
If I hit lightning
while driving on some high plains
road, right there in front
of me and me through
the pulse of it and the clap
breaking my presence
into shivers, shards,
and the road peeling asphalt
away from my life
as I go airborne -
would I sprout the wee folk wings,
see by pixie light?
September 8, 2012 3:53 PM
This heat lightning storm in Nebraska was caught around 10:00 PM, June 4, 2008. The sound means nothing and I would mute the show. I would love to be in the middle of this. I don't care if it's dangerous. The grandeur of the whole thing lifts my spirit unlike most other experiences on the planet. Once when I was in high school the family took a two week road trip. While driving in Utah headed toward Las Vegas and Lake Mead we were surrounded by a heat lightning storm in the mountains on all sides of us. Mom got really nervous. Dad just kept on. Toni and I in the back watched it all and I just about broke out singing. I do so love extreme weather.
No comments:
Post a Comment
The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.