I live on the edge of a forest
surrounded by tall trees which bend gracefully
when a storm comes,
yet often break across lines
leaving me without power.
The air becomes heavy with impending attack
and visual electricity fills the sky
followed by the crash of displacement
one one-hundred, two one-hundred, three one-hundred,
I count it out, just to see how close it was.
I let droplets of rain fall on me
how it will feel
when the lightning
© 2002 Linda Delayen