I learned of them on Jockey’s Ridge,

that mountainous dune on the Outer Banks –

irregular sand-crusted tubes, the size

of a finger, or bigger, polished inside,

smooth as a rifle barrel.

You find them in the sand after thunderstorms

when lightning strikes, stabbing

into the ground at three-thousand degrees,

superheating the sand around it,

fusing it to glass, forming solid branches

several feet into the dunes.

People dig them up, declaring their value –

you can buy them on the Internet, complete

with New Age claims of their power to heal,

even to increase sexual prowess.

Forget the mumbo-jumbo –

what impresses me is this document

to the punch of nature –

that we can collect the souvenir

of a split-second, this newly-minted fossil

of pure deadly power.

06/14/2003

Author's Note: This phenomenon always fascinated me - I tried three versions of this poem and two are posted here (the third was a huiku). Please read both and tell me which you prefer.... d:-)

Posted on 06/14/2003
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