Summer storm

In the sweet exertion of a timeless time
rowing on a calm lake
possible rain far off

we talked idly, exercising
the tongue, the hinges of jaw and eye
and the pull of imagination
easy over the water

when suddenly the sky fragmented
almost a chemical dispersion
of light, dark, heavy
of blue and stone

our oars scraped against the broken surface
reflective no longer, open
to deep disturbances

the wires of the wind laced and snaked
over shattered water
and we spoke no more

but scanned
the distant black serrated treeline
the tumbling clouds

electric birds repulsed
by the bitter light
screeched into shadows, claws outthrust

silent, muscles buckling along
our arms, we rowed
through the collapsing familiar

in each one’s ear
the beginning or the ending of a poem sounded
over and over
with the pulse of our stokes

heard or almost hear by each, alone,
in the dark rain falling