Awaiting Thunder, He Dreams
If all our voices were to meet in the atmosphere
what could the rain achieve?
When we give nothing we have nothing.
Is it enough to listen?
Wisps and heaps, ripples and sheets.
Accumulated, dispersed, fingers
unknotting death’s
grip, steps taken around the flames,
in caution, in delight,
imagining the greatest undoings.
“Awaiting Thunder, He Dreams” was first published in Red River Review, in August 2018.
O at the Edges 
Imagining the greatest undoings … what a delightful invite … thanks for suggesting!
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When I wrote this I had no idea what was possible…
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A legitimately electric proposition! But now I’m impatient; how long to wait until the first thunderstorm of the season? If they’re right, and spring will come early, not long… The kind of storm we get up here — that particular vintage of petrichor — you’re going to love it!
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I’m looking forward to it!
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This poem is truly evocative for me. I have a friend who msgs me every time we have a storm to see if I somehow made it come about. It’s my favourite weather; the pressure buildup beforehand, birds, dogs, people, all seem to go a bit nuts and then, aaah, rain! Everything and everyone comes together in a way that brings us home. Undoings for sure. Brilliant.
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Thank you, Robyn. Good to hear from you. The pre-storm buildup is certainly something to experience and celebrate!
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I love that first question. This poem speaks to me. Thanks for sharing.
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Thank you, Ali. I’m so pleased it speaks to you.
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This took me up high somewhere onto a mountain peak 🙂
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Not a bad place to be taken! Thank you.
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Wow, great poetry…I would like to pick your brain sometime. Drop me a like/message.
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Thanks very much. Contact me anytime through my contact link or leave a comment. I may be slow to respond (my schedule is odd these days), but I will respond.
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