Thunder Showers, Sleepy Heads, Diane Keaton

This was the last day

Of a long, much needed

Vacation.

A Sunday.

I awoke to the sound of

Rumbling thunder—

Zeus’s tummy growling.

Soon after, the rain

Ensued, like day following

Night.

Mother Nature could have been

Grieving the death of a

Complete stranger

In the next county,

So hard was this rain.

I turned on the light,

And my phone.

What a smart phone.

I cued up Joan Didion’s

“Slouching Toward Bethlehem”,

Picking up where I had been last

Conscious.

Lightning struck closely,

With the force and volume

Of a gunshot.

It jolted me for the briefest of

Moments.

Loud noises usually do.

Soon enough, I turned the light off.

And lay my head anew on my purple

Pillow.

I closed my eyes.

My breathing was slow,

Sweet, silent and sure.

I never dozed off.

All the while, the urbane

Voice of Diane Keaton

Echoed softly in my room,

Relating stories of the Golden Land

Of California.

The softness and peace of the moment inside

Was such a perfect counterpoint

To the tumult and thunder outside.

I love moments like that.

When you lose track of time

And maybe of place.

And you melt into the moment,

So sweet and soft

As a cloud of cocoa.