Lines for a summer thunderstorm

Distant thunder.
A common wood satyr
clings to the screen.

*

A close lightning strike
& a second later, raindrops,
the bleating of a fawn.

*

Through sheets of rain
at the edge of the meadow,
the dim outline of a doe.

*

Rain presses
on the horizontal leaves:
a random fluttering.

*

As I watch the storm,
a fly with quivering wings
explores my pants leg.

*

The lightning past,
the fawn stands on its hind legs
& bats at a low branch.

*

Towhee
Towhee
Towhee
Towhee
Towhee
Towhee
all through the downpour.

*

Their one day ends
in prostration —
orange daylilies.

*

The sky brightens,
but the storm’s darkness lingers
in rain-soaked leaves.

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

8 Replies to “Lines for a summer thunderstorm”

  1. orange daylilies, rain-soaked leaves. lovely. i’ve been wanting to write something about rain lately. you’ve given me a lot of inspiration with this.

  2. I second leslee’s comment on the nice arc of the storm through the poem. I really like the way everything is grounded in actual natural observations — my favorite kind of poem.

  3. I wish I could write poems like this. I am not like this. I do not have your quiet intensity. Bummer for me.

    About the 45 tweets ~ I was clearly engaged in heady discourses with my fellow tweeters, namely tinydoctor and beth. You can’t blame me for playing on the playground, can you?

    I love this part of your poem the mostest: Their one day ends / in prostration – / orange daylilies.

  4. lissa – Glad to hear something I wrote lit a fire in someone else. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

    throwshiswords – Glad you liked. Reality is the ultimate writing prompt, I guess. Thanks for stopping by.

    Dana – A bummer, eh? I tend to think of these things in terms of trade-offs. If I had your gift for embroidery, I might not work so hard at staying simple.

    I definitely don’t mind your facility for twittering, and only wish I’d browbeaten you into microblogging sooner.

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