If I WERE SMARTER, I'D BE MORE AFRAID by lois roma-deeley
Perhaps it’s too early in the morning or maybe it’s still very late at night? Suddenly words fly out my mouth like startled birds scattering before a hard rain. Call them back says the winter storm. And I know I should rescue those fleeting thoughts, care for these lost and hungry pilgrims shivering in the wind. If I were smarter, I’d be more afraid because
outside ghosts dance in a circle of crackling white light. They feel their way into living bodies, settling at last deep inside their bones. Suddenly the sky splits open. Trees explode. But then I remember on the rooftop of this house, a lightning rod holds fast; the copper wire reaches up, even as it runs down straight through the heart and into the storm soaked ground.