PICKINGS

Poetry from NHI publications

THUNDER ON THE LEFT
The sky holds down the heat, the air weighted and all the fields to the sea still. Each step makes the sea more distant like the space growing between us. A cat in the shade not moving, a folded fritillary hangs from a blade of grass. "Shall we go back?" I ask. No answer. then lightning one — two — three, crash. Again two flashes thunder bawling between the hills. Rain gobs down each spot making its print on the tar. At the fourth flash we turn but it is too late. Racing back your hand ignores my outstretched palm and when you reach our lane you do not wait but run into the house taking the storm with you.
PATRICIA BISHOP

THUNDER ON THE LEFT

The sky holds down the heat,
the air weighted
and all the fields to the sea still.

Each step makes
the sea more distant
like the space
growing between us.

A cat in the shade not moving,
a folded fritillary hangs
from a blade of grass.

"Shall we go back?"
I ask. No answer.
then lightning
one — two — three, crash.

Again two flashes
thunder bawling between the hills.
Rain gobs down

each spot making
its print on the tar.
At the fourth flash
we turn

but it is too late.
Racing back your hand
ignores my outstretched palm

and when you reach our lane
you do not wait
but run into the house
taking the storm with you.

PATRICIA BISHOP

from
Aabye issue A

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