give me thunder

by tobias crabtree

augustrain

in my rolodex memory, no, not a storage space in my fancy little computer, nor a flashdrive, not even an SD card.

my memory is old-fashioned and disordered.

the corners of it’s cards are wrinkled, some cards are no longer necessary.

but there’s this: that time when i wore the black suit, white shirt and thin black tie. and the symphony played.

and i was amazed at the drums and the thunder they produced.

but now i am sitting in my little truck and i can’t remember where i ever put that black suit.

there is no usher at the end of this aisle!  instead of a sea of hats and ties and fancy shoes,

i have the trees. i have the sound of coming rain.

i have the thunder. and the jays are quiet

and wondering, in the cedars.