Power Outage

I instinctively pull the chain

During the power outage

Because it hasn’t sunk in,

No juice for the light,

Or the lifeless laptop.

I struggle with the weight of pen on paper,

Writing words by hand when I rarely write checks.

Candles and oil lamps in the back of my mind long ago

When snow storms took down power lines

In the country of my youth.

But this is 2021 where wildfires,

Drought and high winds strike terror

More than I ever saw on a snow day.

Without music in the dim light I struggle

With the weight of pen on paper.

How can I be expected to write poetry

In this eerie calm?

(There was a 5-hour power outage in Sacramento yesterday–high winds. )

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