Solid Ground
it's best to be
outside on solid ground when it hits like a small earthquake
that nevertheless might drop something on you if you're too close to canned goods in the pantry, say
there's never any warning or palpable atmospheric pressure buildup or the stilling of birdsong or slight ache in the joints or even an intake of breath before it blows
and you can't be in a state of disaster readiness or get too smug about your stock of bottled water and batteries and paraffin candles in jelly jars
but sometimes there's a hint like an ominous shadow cutting across sun glaring in your face that brings sudden clarity to an unbalanced moment in time
that stomach-pitting jerk when you see the falling rock is going to land right on the dog or the last bolt has just slipped the water main gate
and even though you're on high ground and the wind is blowing sideways and you know your ears won't really be in the trajectory of the flying Banshee
the instinct is flee or play dead or curl up tight but never bite or screech or even acknowledge because that would be met with puzzlement
because there is no scientific theory or philosophic extrapolation or spiritual reassurance
that might help explain the unforeseen and irrational implosion. Because it never did. Happen.
No, it's best to be outside on solid ground.
it's best to be
outside on solid ground when it hits like a small earthquake
that nevertheless might drop something on you if you're too close to canned goods in the pantry, say
there's never any warning or palpable atmospheric pressure buildup or the stilling of birdsong or slight ache in the joints or even an intake of breath before it blows
and you can't be in a state of disaster readiness or get too smug about your stock of bottled water and batteries and paraffin candles in jelly jars
but sometimes there's a hint like an ominous shadow cutting across sun glaring in your face that brings sudden clarity to an unbalanced moment in time
that stomach-pitting jerk when you see the falling rock is going to land right on the dog or the last bolt has just slipped the water main gate
and even though you're on high ground and the wind is blowing sideways and you know your ears won't really be in the trajectory of the flying Banshee
the instinct is flee or play dead or curl up tight but never bite or screech or even acknowledge because that would be met with puzzlement
because there is no scientific theory or philosophic extrapolation or spiritual reassurance
that might help explain the unforeseen and irrational implosion. Because it never did. Happen.
No, it's best to be outside on solid ground.
