We sat out on the east porch last night,
alone in the heat of brick and stone.
With darkness clothed around us,
we felt the day leaving.

There was the least stir of a breeze,
a slight rustling of leaves
and then what seemed like light
ever so briefly on the trees.

For a moment
I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen something
or if it was one of those things
where the mind makes reality

out of some hint of possibility.

But then, there was another flash,
something more
than what could pass for imagination;
definitely, lightning.

In a few minutes more,
as we leaned back in the stored warmth
of the heavy corner,
we heard the coming of a stronger wind,

sending its sound loud and sure in the night,
a stronger surge,
a tremor among the trees,
a bending of branches

the coming of rain.

H. Arnett
8/11/10