When her hearing went,
She often said,"I can hear you
But can't tell what you're saying."
At her kitchen table
We watched a storm pound
Over the old olive orchard.
Sunlight fled the field,
Crossed the creek and
Dark filled the window,
With thunder to the bone.
When the room unrattled
She laughed, "I heard that.
I just couldn't tell what it said."
I wish again her hearing
had been better because
I'd love to know.