Heat Lightning

Heat Lightning

Lightning floods the towering thunderheads,
Cloud bursting
lavender through translucent vapor,
then brilliant
camera flash of un-obscured light,
Leaving spots before our eyes.

Is it a friction of ice and water?
unstable energy, electrons, ions?
We are unsure,
and guess at the science
between bolts.

They come in an instant,
spreading color
and uneven light, dull to brilliant,
from the eastern ridge
to the southwestern tree line,
All in the blink of our
startled, mystified eyes,
Leaving us
in star edged darkness.

There is no thunder,
The entire show is
Miles high
Counties away,
Too far from where we sit in the warm night air,
for even a faint rumble to reach us.

The evening is still,
but for loud, late summer crickets
and our lazy, quiet conversation,
Wondering.
"What makes the lightning?
"Why can't we hear it tonight?"
"Will the storm come?"
"Has that lightning hit the ground somewhere?"

Our questions stray from the clouds,
even as we continue to gaze
at the wonder of light.
"How can they deny global warming? "
"Did that marriage last only four months?"
"Are bears getting more aggressive?"
"Will the corn be eaten by raccoons?"

We can't know,
what causes
the violence of the storms,
of polarizing positions,
passions,
aggressions, or theft.

And our asking voices,
rise and are lost
before they reach
the high, lightning-brilliant
clouds,
or
anyone who can hear
and answer.