Sylvia was struck by lightning while reading in bed one night She’d left the window open, the storm caught her by surprise For days she lay still as stone hooked to pumps and tubes Then out her window the street lights flashed and at last a finger moved She awoke to a cacophony of electric and radio waves Pulsing rays of energy falling from outer space High in swaying towers, down in basements full of dust She could not escape the static, the sixty cycle hum She wore dark-tinted spectacles, several fur-lined capes Three pairs of velvet gloves, a veil of dotted swiss But all the Earth’s vibrations still pounded through her ears So she packed a steamer trunk, flew a prop plane to Belize From there a log raft took her over raging waterfalls Deep within uncharted jungle where giant caterpillars crawl They spun their silk around her, a cocoon beneath the trees And still she hangs there swaying, deep within the dripping leaves Keeping time with every rumble, every quiver of the Earth And she slowly changes shape with the turning of the world