The thunder rolled on night sky.

The lighting cleared the air.

We just layed there sleeping.

Somehow, with whom, somewhere.

We left with moon and stars in sky.

To the place past Thunder Cove

In my dreams, I heard of distant love

And on to home we drove.

She’s been quiet in the suburbs; walks a dog on cul-de-sac.

She’s getting wise on wine and proverbs; and she’s not coming back.

There’s a smile on my face now; I’m afraid its here to stay.

The cul-de-sac goes round and round; so quiet far away.

Today; got mad at nothing.

My voice it made that clear.

Sometimes you have to search it out…

But it always ends at fear.

Its a thing like pain at failure.

When that thing don’t go my way.

I have such big expectations.

How they arrived is hard to say.

I fear if God is watching then he must be plenty bored.

Not much new is going on, still driving that old Ford.

The bums are still out hangin and the drunks are down and out.

The lovers have all gone inside and the agnostics have their doubt.

The investors lost their money and the leaves are turning brown.

The church it seems so empty and that sun is going down.

The older the fiddle.

The sweeter the tune.

Don’t know who wrote that.

Probably left us too soon.

There is color in the flowers.

And moisture in the rain.

The rocks are hard and heavy.

And the soil holds all pain.

I’ve been dancing in the meadows.

I don’t dare to stay too long.

And only under darkened skies.

Where the thunder plays my song.

No more confab with the foolish.

Or the prideful, boastful voice.

I take it to the world at large.

And pretend I have a choice.

Sometimes, I miss delusions.

In the busy city streets.

And the chaos and confusions.

But not the phones and texts and tweets.

The bad luck raised suspicions, on a path that was beat down.

No one dared to look within or see the wise men in the town.

It was happening for eons, as long as Grandad could recall.

Like a dark foreboding plank walk or a dream in which you fall.

Until the child spoke her words that, “Maybe somethings wrong with me?”

So we made a meeting with the Doc, down at the Family Psychiatry.

The doctor raised awareness and we all took a look.

Things are looking so good now, might take Grandma off the hook.

Now life is far from perfect however the family’s not so sad.

Looking in the mirror, not blaming blind luck, good or bad.

The 8:15 was crowded and on time. I wasn’t in a hurry because I’m always an hour early. It was the first of my character flaws that she noticed. I was the last to leave the bus at Runnymede station.

A young man was throwing up on the platform. It looked like a bad breakfast. However, I didn’t linger to inspect.

It’s funny what makes you remember someone. For me, it’s just being early. She was late for everything. Like her mother before her and our daughter after.

Our daughter is identifying as a boy now. I suspect that this is because she wants to distance herself from her mother as much as she can. However, I could be wrong about that…

I’ve had this running battle.

Avoiding normal was a fued.

On the farm with hay and cattle.

Not gonna be that dude.

A one way ticket to the town.

Now it’s years since I am here.

With all the crazy going around.

I want normal now I fear.

Rain is rushing down the gutter.

Washing all that’s in the way.

It’s either one thing or the other…

Bad or good, it’s all in play.

Doesn’t matter what you’re thinking.

Which way that wind is gonna blow.

If you’re down there in the gutter.

Only one way up I know.