It was close – the gaggle,
An invisible mass deep in the forest,
North of the river
And over the rolling green hill.
I imagined it,
Rising up like a mushroom cloud
A sound so loud it swallowed noise,
It’s dark shadow, a curtain drawn over the sun.
I stood alone,
Behind a fence, in a field
Where a corrugated iron shelter
Speckled with rain, lay empty, inviting.
A whisper of wind
Carried a siren, and the river ran
In a silver crease. And over the hill like a smoking lum,
A lazy line – a gaggle, then a hum.
I watched it fade –
The line, my worry,
The internet signal on my phone
It would be many day til I returned home.