Rain hammers tin on the porch roof tight
Lineman watches the storm through night
Coffee steams black in his chipped white mug
Wires hum deep where the lightning struck
Boots crossed slow on the splintered rail
Thunder rolls heavy off the distant trail
Pliers rest quiet on denim knee
Splicing knife tucked where the pocket used to be
Storm don't scare a man who climbs for pay
He's slept through worse on a tower sway
Radio crackles a county code
Static jumps like a toad on a hot road
He walks the fault line calm and slow
Where copper sings and the high winds blow
One hand on the pole one on the wire
Storm breaks hard but he don't tire
Grill sizzles bacon eggs flip clean
Regulars laugh at a joke unseen
But my eyes track the flash on the wire
Counting seconds til the thunder fire
Porch light flickers holds its ground
Lineman don't move when the sky comes down
He walks the fault line calm and slow
Where copper sings and the high winds blow
One hand on the pole one on the wire
Storm breaks hard but he don't tire
Years of current in his calloused palms
He reads the sky like paper maps
Each storm a sentence each bolt a clause
He holds the dark with a steady pause
No hero pose no grandstanding show
Just a man who knows which way winds blow
First light bleeds gray through the pine tops thin
Storm retracts like a breath drawn in
Lineman stands stretches rolls his sleeve
Clips his badge prepares to leave
Mug left empty on the porch floor boards
Payment settled in nods and words
I wipe the counter scrape the grill clean
Watch his truck climb the county hill
Wire hums quiet in the morning hush
Fault line sleeps beneath the brush
Coffee's cold but the pot stays on
Next storm's coming before the dawn
He walks the fault line calm and slow
Where copper sings and the high winds blow
One hand on the pole one on the wire
Storm breaks hard but he don't tire
Fault line humming in the pine
Porch empty now wire holds
Next call comes coffee's cold
