The Greatest Distance

It is an odd sort of storm.
Not dark. Yet fiery with a fireworks show of lightning.
Deep bass rumbles of thunder tickle the gut.
and for a few short minutes, interminable rain.

And then, it ends.
A summer storm in February,
Ignoring the rules. Hardly a breath of wind
and it comes and goes

and you are left with wonder and gratitude
that it did not find you outside,
and you could watch it from your diner window,
safe with coffee and a half-eaten plate of eggs.

Watch it come. Watch it disappear.
Watch the wet one caught in the rain come in.
Remembering life storms like this,
Come and gone in a moment. Damage done.

And now, all this time later,
the damage is largely undone,
and you are once again safe, less because of place,
than because of time, the greatest distance.

About this poem

Feeling empty this morning.

A storm did come through this morning. As the poem says, an odd sort of storm. Come and gone in minutes.

I like remembering what I have survived. It gives me courage for whatever is next.

From those things, this poem.

Tom