** Part 1 **
She still worries when I go for my night walk
Even if just in our neighborhood
where there is little traffic,
most folks are usually home by this time,
there is little movement on the road,
even the wildlife is nesting
Plenty of road to share in this uncertainty,
coming out of the pandemic,
wondering what the new normal might be,
striding along, street lights start the shadow races,
the blackest black bleeds to grey
as the light shifts from back to front
as the light shifts, the shadow dims,
decides to go the other way,
leaving you alone for a time.
Navigating the curve, it is dark,
hard to see, harder still
when in this mid-point between these poles
This street light works, sorta.
It slowly comes on building brightness,
widening its circle of light,
it reaches as far as it can,
stays for a bit, only a bit,
abracadabra,
the cone of light disappears
Then I am back to navigating
the curve of the road,
walking on a dark and stormy night
** Part 2 **
Upon entry I was greeted
with a problem to solve immediately.
Whether it was the toilet clogged,
or the TV remote not working,
or someone had called a
nd wanted something that
needed to be done right now.
That was always more important
than a "welcome home, how was your day?"
So we learned how to dive right
into what was a dark and stormy night.
We left behind whatever else
was in the current thought stream,
forgot about the radio news,
the song's last notes,
or the podcast voice of reason,
or what had happened at work that day.
There was barely time
to put down my bag
or take off my coat
before jumping into the problem
of the night to try and
make sense of the issue at hand.
Then to step back,
to gather the tools required;
maybe it needed the plunger,
or new batteries,
or to make the phone call.
Sometimes it could be quick work
to bring light and dispel the darkness.
A plunge or two to clear away the clog.
The batteries returned functionality,
the status lights came on,
the channel or volume would change properly.
Sometimes it took a little longer
to make sense of the stormy issue.
Then it was as if we had never left the current,
we weren't in a river of dreams.
The islands in the stream just slipped by.
Some when, some where, some how
those news bits, notes of the melody,
or voices of insight would come forward to play.
Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday.
** Part 3 **
It was a dark and stormy night.
The creek flowed by steadily.
At first, it seemed only the creek noise;
then a flash lit the sky,
thunder claps rolling along the creek.
The rains followed. Gentle rain at first,
then steady buckets. A soaking rain.
It was a good rain. It was needed.
The trees and grasses welcomed it.
Another lightning flash broke the dark.
What were they thinking of
doing it all at once?
The storm wouldn't last.
The clouds and rain would roll away.
The thunder would become a distant echo.
The rains too would pass.
In a few hours,
daylight would creep over the ridge
chasing the night away.
It was time to write,
lasso/harness those images,
thoughts, all too briefly
illuminated before they flowed away.
Rolling over bedside,
opening the pad,
scribbling the translations
as they appeared.
Images to words.
Would others follow along?
There is the challenge.
We hope to raise enough interest,
use enough of their words,
to recreate the dark and stormy night for them.
It only thunders when it rains.
Why is that he considered?
It was hard enough creating the space,
the time, to welcome the moment,
to go with the flow of images,
transferring them to words,
wrestling the meaning of being.
Now soaking wet, yes,
you only get wet once.
He was at one with the world.
The creek was flowing; bubbling,
gurgling, eddying around smooth rocks,
ever flowing.
Taking a deep breath
he realized,
we can do this.
For DS, on the journey together
a continuation and completion of part one shared previously
https://www.quietpoet.com/2021/06/a-dark-and-stormy-night-part-1.html
