There are phenomena we cannot explain

dating back thousands of years:

like ball lighting

which would dance through open doors

and burst through fireplace pits

into unsuspecting living rooms

or strange, glowing balls of plasma

cruising low over the ground

silent like a stalking cat

manipulating our neurons with

electromagnetic fields

altering our perception before

we were even sure

we saw the thing we saw.

Sailors would report St. Elmo’s Fire

arcing from the tips of their masts

and yardarms;

calling out grand portents, good portents

when they get back to shore.

They have seen ghosts

and flashes of green

moving down through quiet canyons

and over the heads of sleeping

towns, tangled up in washing lines

and sparking crosses on belfry towers

where the early riser

was privileged to see visions

and later, speak them.

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