Tag Archives: lightning

Composted poetry: Daily grind

This is a compost poem because it rose to the top of my mind from I-don’t-know-where. Somewhere, sometime, I heard someone talk about poetry being the product of consistent work rather than the result of accidental inspiration. This is not to say that accidental inspiration can’t be used in a poet’s consistent work, but accident is a pretty poor basis for anything, even a hobby, let alone a career or vocation.

Daily grind

poetry is not lightning
a spinal jolt of plasma that splits open
mind to the sky in random
rare serendipity

poetry is laundry
worn piles that tumble over
and over made fresh by infinite
tedious cycles

The best fireworks

On the way back from Cincinnati last night, we were treated to terrific light show. For the entire drive of more than an hour, the sky lit up in a spectacular lightning display. We weren’t in rain most of the way and had a clear view of each strike: lightning really does move from the ground up.

Every few minutes, a column of light snaked up from the ground. When it reached the clouds, the bolt scattered, combing through the clouds with glowing fingers. Sometimes the countryside was illuminated like broad daylight; other times it was simply blinding, though only for a split second, thank goodness.

But as amazing as the light show had been, the best thing by far was driving into steady, soaking rain for the last twenty miles. No one minded getting wet one bit.