Golden Hayes

Golden Hayes*

Cathryn flowers Ritchie

Midafternoon rainstorm plopped onto our house

battering roof, pool, lake (laughing as it tossed it back).

Though expecting thunder after flashing light

the surprise raised memories of turning the jack in the box

till it jumped at me and me at it. My fright-filled-shriek

frightened kids more than the thunder clap.

Burgers had sizzled, swimming while waiting, baked beans stewing.

Afterwards the porch was populated by lazy souls full of burgers

and soothed by ice cream.

More Midafternoon storming:

dashing, thrashing, rumbling to calm

pretending it was gone. Then more,

thunder striking whisking rain into a

frightful frenzy.

And then calm, real calm as if Mr. Rain

had exhausted himself and left us

wetness, quiet, tranqulity.

Golden haze on the lake followed the clouds to heaven.

Black, brown, grey, and gold and more gold.

Landscape turned into a translucent

brilliant shimmering green and greener and light gold,

like someone had taken a flourescent green magic marker

and a yellow highlighter and played with the afternoon.

And all glistened until the sunset stole the gold into the darkened night.

*we live on Lake Hayes