Driving through Oregon at night I saw a tremendous lightning storm on the horizon.
The sky was dark and heavy clouds obscured the stars above.
My son was sleeping while I drove, so was the woman I love.
A distant mountain loomed ahead like saw teeth in a line.
The pale ribbon of the road wound through some old growth pine.
With sudden flash, an orange glow, forked lightning split the night.
No thunderous sound, nor shock of force accomp'nied plasma's might.
Horizon's edge turned starkly sharp, another silent bolt.
More brilliant colors light the sky with electric jolt.
Now blue, then red and back to orange, Olympus' joyous throng.
So far away, so sad I missed to hear their godlike song.
By time I reached the footed hills their revels must have ended.
The sky grew light, and clouds, once rent, there forms again were mended.
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