“May 18, 1980” and “finding the storm” by Constance Schultz
May 18, 1980 the sand my feet remember hot burning in summer until the mountain blew and soft ash that summer the city nearly shut down and we walked in the ghost town that was ours my father dusted the fruit tree babies with a handkerchief on his face and our roof did not fall in it was not poison like we didn’t know was not the end of the world on a Sunday I didn’t go to church
finding the storm finding the storm before it arrives on the top of cascade hill cotton balls in the sky unthreading the lake as slate rolls rough arches beneath a low thundercloud voices carry up excitement at the park bending trees once forgotten picnic tables and a girl running creating her own wind the shallows ooze muddy with shadows swimming and a light glorious paints the trees
Constance Schultz resides in the Pacific Northwest and cannot help writing about it. She lives with her daughter and Winston the dog. They like to read, write and run together. She also has a degree in Social Science.