You’re gone 16 years now,
but still I think of you whenever
a thunderstorm lands, a good gullywasher,
how we’d snuggle on your sunporch loveseat,
awed, soothed by the rhythmic downpour,
the way wind dragged the raindrops, how sometimes
they fell in sheets, the wet shine of the deck,
bodies of our cars, green leaves,
the surprise of lightning spikes that flashed,
zigzagged, forked. To fully relish the drama,
we remained silent except for concurrent startled
intakes of breath at lightning’s close spurt
followed by an intense thunderbolt
that rattled the window glass, rumbled
the soles of our feet. O, that lush, musky petrichor.
11 thoughts on "You’re gone 16 years now,"
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Such sensuous details! Love it.
You’ve captured the storm and the storm watching beautifully. Some of my favorites:
gullywasher
the way wind dragged the raindrops
O, that lush musky petrichor
This is just lovely, brings me into the scene. So deeply felt.
Love the sounds that support the storm!
“The way the wind dragged the raindrops” — love! I really felt the poem.
Like the way you share a vivid storm memory to capture a shared moment with a loved one.
You bring the whole scene into your loving moments – the bodies of cars, the details of the storms. It’s beautifully done, Karen!
My favorite detail is “we remained silent”
Strong images, a clear and recognizable emotion, and great attention to the sound of words.
Your careful attention to imagery brings your work to life!
I feel like I am there, & the poem engages the senses–sight & touch especially. The form works, well, too, & I love that ending: “O, that lush, musky petrichor.”