Waiting for the Sound - Aug 2 2022

 

Waiting for the Sound

Aug 2 2022

I paused, waiting for the sound

until I lost track of the seconds.

A dull flash

against the underside of cloud

that covered the sky

like a low grey blanket,

but no thunder followed.

In the fine mist

that felt cool and replenishing

against my sunburned skin

I wondered how far it was,

the pyrotechnics, and drenching rain,

pelting hail and gusting wind

that zero in on the weakest link,

shifting

with the fickle indifference

of uncontested power.

The heart of the storm,

moving quickly

and unpredictably

but I hoped not here.

Light is fast

and energetic,

while sound is slow

and quickly decays.

But penetrates,

passing through, around, and by,

while any solid object

blocks light.

So it seems it's either sensation and glamour

or slow but reliable,

take your pick.

I'm thunder, for sure.

Mostly noise and bluster

and idle threat.

While with lightning you're dead,

even before

you hear a thing

or see it coming.

As they say,

died instantly

didn't know what hit him,

left us

doing what he loved.

But I find no consolation in this.

The man

who was lightning himself

and intensely alive,

living fast and courting risk

and catching every eye.

Who was very much

heard and seen.

No playing it safe, like me.