20 June 2017
lightning strikes the tree,
the upraised golf club,
the baby’s stroller.
an earthquake rocks the house,
hailstones as big as golf balls
shatter the greenhouse glass.
it is as silent as frost on geraniums,
or clothes on the line quick-frozen in the wind.
a breaking down by freeze and thaw,
free fall on the cliff face and the subsequent scree.
A cloud passes overhead:
our sunshine vanishes.