I search memory
or perhaps it finds me,
from all the nooks and crannies
of mere facts, today one stands out.
My brother carrying tea,
on a dark and stormy day,
when sudden lightning bolts
the big pine tree just outside
the cozy of our living room window,
I am more frightened for him
than the thunder peeling off
the sky, rolling away like a big truck
oiled with wheels of pounding rain.
He drops the tray.
Tea and milk spill along carpet.
His face ashen from the startling light.
The tree scalded so black,
our pupils make pinholes
prickled into dark sight,
shocked with electric fright.
My mother might scream,
even at scurrying mice.
Once when the frying chips, caught alight,
my brother rushed outside
and tossed the wet tea towel across.
He was the practical one.
My father of the booming voice;
My father of the sudden crack of palm
on back of head, to call out brilliant stars
from behind our eyes; was upstairs,
still in bed, waiting to be served.
DO NOT DISTURB the sleeping bear.
Far better he was not here,
“Tell him later mother.”
From His dropped tea,
shield my brother.
Such a vivid capture of the scene and all the reactions...
Nothing quite like a thunder clap to shake the synapses!