Lightning Over Bloor

We had taken our places at the table
For some words after the break, following
On various comings and goings.
And when—twice—the professor said, “hope,”
The celestial fireworks following the verb
Had us rocketing skywards too. I had always suspected
The poet’s powerful leanings, but now I reckoned
How few exchanges we had actually come to know
Between pedagogy, providence, and rain.

Imagine a word inciting a rainbow
Of kaleidoscopic color refracting against the sky
With water heaving in at the windows and
Curtains of yellow and indigo opening into
Soft, new smiles on the faces of the persons assembled.

But then, just as quick, lightning hit loud and fast
Taking hold of the sky with furious thunder following
Before funneling its undiminished charge
Into a room full of hunger and purpose.

I prize it, not knowing still whose soul at the sound released,
May yet unfold. The seminar emptied fast upon the storm,
Dispersing, anxious and radiant,
At eight-thirty in the evening onto Bloor.