When the kids are in their beds,
I sit on the porch and look
To where the gods are warring
Just over the horizon.
See their distant lightnings
Silent, scar the southern sky
Too far to be heard, but I
Feel a tremor pass beneath.
When the chill sets I turn
Back to book, and mug, and chair
To a house so deeply still
I can hear the children breathe.
But when I lie in bed at last
To surrender to the night
Lightning flickers on the wall
And the tremor follows it.
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