“Inside All Those Grey Clouds Lurks A Monster”

(June 13, 2019)

lowing graydark clouds

cover our town from the East

hiding horrorstorms*

*(Before my walk downtown to the library a last listen to weather radio and its talkative radar: a warning storm of severe intensity lurks just behind the on-rushing storm front a shade less than a half-century of miles from Sanford, Florida. Stay home, bake, putter, write, read, or bank some more zees? Nah, I like storms, and more often than is good for me or statistical certitudes, I choose the perambulation instead. Never know what you will find. High adventure? A never-before seen scene? Unmute distemper? A just-washed white terrycloth half-towel draped over a newspaper rack to replace the one you lost last week? Some less-than-gentle human-crowing to make a rooster ‘shame? A disputatious pair discussing each other and shared foibles?A friendly cat wanting a tail-pull or a shy dog looking for a willing leash? Or just a stray puddle hoping for a soon-ocean into which to stray: I did ditch the tennie-pumps in favor of beach clogs. Decidedly not risk-averse, I do enjoy tossing my old bones on the life’s felt; but, recall – inside the backpack, sans camera gear, is a motorcycle-grade rain jacket and zip-locked book and snacks. And, of course, the construction-grade flip-flops. That puddle’s ocean has just arrived. Goody: much foot-stomping to ensue.)

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