Lightning Rods Poem by Tom Higgins

We stood on the rocky breakwater,
My fishing friend Peter and me,
Faces turned sideways from the wind,
Which churned the steel grey sea.

Our carbon fibre fishing rods,
Pointed at angles to the sky,
When on the distant horizon,
Orange flashes we did espy.

The waters got much rougher,
Than when we'd first arrived,
And the fishing was much tougher,
As nature's forces then contrived,

To wash us from our platform,
Into the raging briny,
The power of a building storm,
Reminds you that you are tiny.

Then jagged lightning bolts advanced,
Towards us from the West,
Across the sea they flashed and danced,
So we thought it would be best,

If discretion replaced trust in the gods,
And we packed our gear and fled,
As carbon fibre fishing rods,
Plus lightning equals dead!

Tom Higgins 29/01/2013