217
Sonnets From Other Lives: Morgana

Distant thunder rumbles. It seems closer
than the previous murmured suggestions
of impending storm. Morgana knows her
home is well secured, but the oppression
of a falling barometric pressure
& the grey green pallor of the evening sky--
though strange & lovely-- does mildly distress her
enough to inventory the supplies
stowed securely down in the root cellar.
She puts on Janacek’s Sinfonietta
to bravely welcome in the donnerwetter,
stokes a the fire aflame, then goes to get a
cup of coffee from the kitchen right
before the sky explodes in blue-white light.