It's Still Life

Two Six Sentence Poems: Thunder

I. Thunder

Thunder wilts through July’s green oak.
Distance beyond distance.
Sun-bleached blue.
We renamed the cloudless sky Thunder.
Its heat soaked into the flagstones.
Then again, it rumbled —
the long arm from a constellation.

II. Thunder

Cloudless all afternoon.
Thunder somewhere beyond the hills.

The flagstones giving back
everything the sun had taken.

But no storm arrived.

The stars arrived early,
and we had renamed
the sky.

I still think of constellations
as weather
that forgot its name.

Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story (or sometimes it’s a poem), including the word: Thunder. Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is authentically my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.