Monday, February 6, 2012


I was thinking about the energy pattern of a cloudburst. I still don't understand the phenomena. Steve Lewandowski said it is caused by extreme temperature differences. I guess that is part of it, I am not convinced and besides it is the moving currents that are my focus. Cloudburst is found in breaking through as energy pattern. One in Rushville, New York had Stephen and I driving around looking at ditches -- twenty-five year event, hundred year-event, thousand year-event (forget-about-it). Next day in a cloudburst for over one-hundred miles driving east. I couldn't outdrive the storm. It brought visibility down to almost zero and my speed to 20 MPH. Then it would clear all the way to sunlight. I'd speed up to 70 MPH but I couldn't outrun this storm as you can with some rain.

cloudburst right with me all the way.
back in cloudburst fury. Our paths converged.
in one spot a deluge washes over gone and clear
cloudburst moves, huge weather patterns move
cloudburst a rip in the water-filled clouds
carried across continents, bigger than countries

I was caught in a cloudburst while driving from west to east along the New York State Thurway this September. It brought visibility down to almost zero and my speed to 20 MPH. Then it would clear all the way to sunlight. I'd speed up to 70MPH but i couldn't outrun the storm for some reason. The perspective of observation seem to be from the point-of-view of the rained-upon. I am interested in what I imagine as a tear in the cloudsky, all the water of a lake brought up and then "burst" and let go.

Robert Frost goes:

For when all that was rotted rich
Shall be in the end scoured poor,
When my garden has gone down ditch,

Robert Frost knowing the damage, 15-20 years of soil-building can wash away in a few minutes. Understanding cloudburst I start to realize is about being ready for even the cloudburst that comes once every thousand-years. I woke-up, wide-awake in the middle of the night a few days ago. I remembered that I did write a cloudburst poem a few years ago or at least one on the rushing intense weather coming on.The local weather news has the habit of emitting buzz noice whenever a strong run of lightening runs down the Mohawk Valley to Albany. Here's the poem.


A red cell on the weather map,

moving towards Albany

with incredible speed.

Racing into town to cause trouble

like the over-sized kid

with the angry look on his face

hurrying to reach the playground

and moving in the direction of your own child.

The lightning shook the house.

Hit so close, my son tells me,

everything flashed white.

We could smell burning

coming from the computer.

This is not good,

turned the computer off.

No tree seems to be down in the back.

I open a sliding-door,

to peer through sheets of rain,

looking for a smoking remnant.

June 27, 2007
Delmar, N.Y.            

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