After midnight
a thunderstorm
passing swiftly
cleans the air.
I walk through the early morning,
into an emergency room,
peeking into consulting cubicles.
Doctors are treating injuries -
a geographer half smothered by nightmares,
an amber gatherer with burnt fingers,
and an oil rig worker,
coughing in endless eruptive spurts.
Weirdly, the only
sounds are birdsongs -
the white crowned sparrow,
(geographer)
a chickadee,
(amber gatherer)
a robin
(oil rig worker).