Human Condition

 

A good and thunderous
storm turns on the horizon,
rolling over the hills here in Missouri.  

I just saw two sticks of lightning
dart-up and duel off quickly, 
and then the harmony
in reverberating echo/
and sound of the water. 

The rain rolls in, a flash back
to a herd of Buffalo with
thier heads howling,
coming in across the dead ages
through the winds.  

I'm standing there,
under an eave, 
where there's a rain barrel, waiting

collecting the hooves
beating in fast over the cliff,
falling through to the human condition.

I could imagine the thunder. 
The calm ambush.