libertango | Thunder

So, we had a thunderstorm here in Redmond about a month, month-and-a-half ago. It was late at night,

akirlu was never really awake for it, but I was. I counted out the seconds between the flash and the boom. Six seconds per mile, kids.

It got close. :)

And then there was

eleanor's post about thunder not that long ago. Not much I can say there, except to admire her courage.

But this all reminded me of a poem I once wrote, and today I hunted it up:

"Thunder"

Listen to old Giacomo talk about
Childhood: "When thunder and winds, sun and stars,
Animals and plants, and even the walls
Of the house, all seemed friends or enemies --
None indifferent and none meaningless..."
Now --
        wham, BAM --
                         Dad and I are on the porch,
Three floors up, of our house in Somerville.
I am five, and it is glorious.  The
Lighting is my fireworks, the thunder, my
Tympani.  Oh, Lear, what a fool you are!


See him, down there, cursing the wind.  Old King,
Why do you mock yourself so?  Thunder should
Be your voice, lightning should be your lances.
Truly, you have gown old without growing
Wise.
       Zeus was my friend, when I was five.  He
Would light up the sky for me, he would give
Me concerts in basso profundo.  I
Remember those storms -- though I never see
Their like here in L.A. -- But I also
Remember being the son of thunder.

I don't have the date on that, though it would be mid-1990s sometime.