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the heat lightning 269
and rolled intact when I dropped it
coming home.
A trophy of late summer
on the fl oor of the side porch,
stirring a bit now and then
in a breeze.
Afternoon cloud-quiet; then just
as I leaned to look once more,
a wind struck, I smelt the rain
on the way,
the globe scudded off , bouncing
down the stairs, and caved in, the whole
structure careening and breaking up
as it went,
dozens of the seeds lodged in things
at odd angles, the silken
hexagons wrecked by the drench
the wind brought in.