The Horses of Summer

The horses of summer

flew through the pastures,

tails  and manes

terrific in the wind.

In the overfull cities,

the horses of summer

lugged vegetable carts

and beer barrels,

hauled carriages of wealth

and tourists, endured

heavy policemen.

High on an alpine ranch,

one old horse stood in a time-grayed

barn as lightning burnt

the sky and thunder rattled

boards and bones.

She ate hay, farted,

and slept. 

And in the ignited

desert, a spotted horse

drank deeply from

a black trough and flinched

at the gunfire. 

hans ostrom 2023

Fulguriators

The Etruscans employed fulguriators--
interpreters of lightning strikes.
Jagged, sizzling bolts wrought phrases,
injected warnings, illumined portents,
and brought the heat.  And may I say,
what a great job: Critic of Lightning.
It fuses meteorology, magic, entertainment,
theology, and serious scholarship.

There had to have been fulguriator
conferences, with newsletters (on
baked tablets) with articles like
"Towards a Theory of Lighting
Semantics," "The Neglected Importance
of Thunder," and "'Don't Sit Under
a Tree': Common Mistakes in
Fulguriation." My own

insights into lightning have been
wanting, focused on risk of wildfire,
fear of electrocution, and thoughts
of B-Horror movies. I know
I can do better, like the Etruscans.



hans ostrom 2017