Powerless
The storm was wild and windy—lightning, thunder, rain.
As soon as one peal ended, one answered a refrain.
The dogs were howling wildly, but the deluge on the roof
was so thunderous it served to drown out every woof.
And then without a warning, a flutter or a flicker,
The lights went out and all around me darkness gathered thicker.
I’ve ignited many candles and spread them all around,
but in spite of manifold effort, not one flashlight’s to be found.
And though I’ve always kept them in a cupboard over there,
the lanterns have all vanished to I don’t know where.
My modem isn’t functioning, the appliances are dead,
and tomorrow I have company coming to be fed.
Thank God I’ve cooked the curry, the rice and beans with chilis,
the raita and the vegetables, but now I have the willies.
When I put them in the fridge, they were piping hot,
and I wonder just how long they’ll last now that the power is not!
No water for a shower, for the water pump’s shut off.
No MacBook for my blogging, no water for my cough.
When I wake in the morning, my garage door is locked tight.
The opener is electrical and though I think I might
loosen screws to open it, my wrenches are all missing.
I hold back all the expletives, but cannot keep from hissing,
“Passsssssiano! Where have you hidden all my tools?”
I know those who blame others turn out to be the fools,
but now is not the time to work on my mental quirks.
I simply need just one thing in my life that actually works.
Thinking every moment that surely I’ll be caught,
my morning bath’s al fresco, in a tub formerly hot.
I’m glad the gardener is late. I fear it would be rude
for him to come to clean the hot tub with me in it, nude!
When I find he is not coming, it puts me in a tizzy.
I had so many jobs for him—enough to keep him busy.
I find the ladder and the wrench and open up the door.
I have so little ice I know I have to drive for more.
My huge jugs of water are missing so if water’s to be sipped,
I have to go buy three or four. Tonight I’ll be equipped.
Batteries and flashlights are the next supplies I seek.
I’ve known these power outages to go on for a week!
I drive on home, park in the street, and rescrew on the doors.
I roll the garafones of water over steps and floors.
I pack the freezer full of ice and put the tonight’s food in it.
I put more in an ice chest–as much as I can fit.
I roll the water bottles to the kitchen and each bath.
leaving dusty footprints behind me in my path.
I refresh the candles and put batteries where they’re needed.
My morning’s bath is all used up, my underarms are beaded.
But everything is done at last, no lights won’t ruin my party.
I have gas to heat the food. The candles will look arty.
I lug a pail of water in so we can flush the john,
and just as I am finished, have you guessed? The lights come on!
The prompt word today was “Candle.” How appropriate!
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
And that’s how things go. Very clever.
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That’s the way it always goes. By the time you find the flashlights, candles, matches, batteries, and get the water so the toilet will flush, the power is back. It’s a Murphy’s Law, or something like it 🙂
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Murphy’s law, extraordinaire
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We’ve just been through something similar !!
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Yes, I guessed it. I lived it and I sometimes loved it. Lighting candles in every room snd moving from room to room candle in hand. 0ur flashlights also had dead batteries when we needed them. However, there was a certain charm playing Mexican Train by candlelight with Tony. If I know you and your parties, the evening will be totally captivating. Enjoy!
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It’s stormy where I live too. Candles are ready but the power is on. So far.
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I’m willing “no rain” tonight.
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perfect! you did not miss one element of life in that storm! as always-loved it!
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Except for the little rabbits cowering under the cabbage leaves! Actually, it just occurred to me that I’ve never seen a rabbit in Mexico. Strange.
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now that is interesting! Where are the little rabbits I wonder?
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I guess they all emigrated to Australia.
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That was wonderful 🙂
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You certainly know how to make a poem out of a drama!
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Or is it how to make a mountain out of a molehill?
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No, it isn’t. That’s what we do in the UK. At the first flurry of snow the country comes to a standstill. We complain about the cold before it even reaches overcoat temperature, and when the sun shines we say it’s too hot. At a light shower, we cower, terrified, in doorways, as if it will dissolve our skin. It’s always hotter, colder, wetter or drier than it has ever been before – always a disaster of epic proportions.
BTW I’m not party to this idiocy 🙂
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