Blue beat on the double pane

Thunder crackles in the distance
Sounding like a voice from outer space.

He’s brought his brother, Lightening,
Apparently to scare away the rain

Dat…dat…dat

Tep…tep

Dat…dat…dat…

It plays steadily all the same,
A blue beat on the double pane.

Far from ruining the night,
This rhythm forms its lyric
Projecting it across a dusty heaven, where
Lightening & thunder entertain with flare

Till . . . Daaat . . . daaat . . . . . . daaa . . .

My heart slows as it slows . . .
and my breath following suit,
Obeying another conductor
leagues beyond my mind.

Between the infrequent drops,
I wonder if it will stop.

Then suddenly it begins pommeling the panes again
Playing forcefully from some brilliant, yet secret, score.

What a delightfully musical universe,
recording freely on my window pane!

When it plays, you feel you are
physically in this world, yet psychically set apart.

Alternately frightened and comforted,
I will myself to lay silent and still,
Suffused with the romance of this impromptu hymn.

Hadn’t it been a night like this
when Offenbach sailed in his double-bass –
weaving through Paris’ flooded streets,
avowing music — and only music — as his religion?

Dat…dat…dat

Tep…tep

Dat…dat…daa….