Last night, lightning turned my room into a photobooth.
Thunder rolled down rocks on me
and the floor trembled under my feet
It darkens early in November. In the afternoon's half-light
I half-thought I'd like to go out again about my business
as I did this morning, managing to dodge the worst of the rain.
Yet I stayed inside, listening to the wild wind.
And though the sun gilded the clouds in the watery sky
at the end of my street, I worked on,
attention divided between will-I and won't-I
until it felt too late to go.
Soon, they say, there will be snow.
The day has died, and I am still inside
playing switch-it-on-and-off-again with my lamp
as clouds gather and disperse behind my half-closed blinds.
