TEN SECONDS
A distant rumbling amplified
the silence around me.
My breathing roared within me.
I whispered lightly, making sure I
wasn’t deaf. I held my breath and then
released it into ambient stillness.
The clouds possess a cotton smoothness.
The leaves appear asleep, unconcerned
for impending winds and rain.
I feel insignificant at the bottom
of this gray bowl of weather waiting
to happen. A coolness crosses over me.
Not a breeze, but a wave without sound.
I am chilled for the moment. I button
my coat. There is a flash of lightening.
I count the seconds before a muffled
impact reaches me. Ten seconds.
Close enough. I step inside.
Roger Singer 