Lightning, thunder, a strong metallic odor—
Sound on the windshield, window, and sidewalk,
On rooftops, street corners, and umbrellas,
The shape of an ovary, oval, or orb,
A capsule the size of a gnat or a sperm.
Each drop takes a unique journey,
Condensed in the air or coalesced in descent,
Some evaporate and some make it down.
Curious eyes see where these drops hit—
Little pinwheels turned by invisible hands,
Tiny records spinning their music—
The ripples flow out from the center.
These rhythms copy the flash of life,
From the spot of origin out to a full body,
To decay and the last breath.
Like time, these wakes turn in an instant,
Each one blinking in and out, split-second neon,
Light switch flicked on and off,
A galaxy here then gone.
They come from a trinity of elements,
Protium, deuterium, tritium, a piece of atom,
The Hydrogen present three minutes into creation,
In the heat of many suns, the first life on a planet,
Sentient beings who create and destroy
And return to the clouds once more—
Lightning, thunder, a strong metallic odor.
