It’s pitch black. Except for the occasional lightning strike. The rain comes down non-stop.
Sometimes the lightning is just a lamp from above being turned on and off by an unseen five-year old playing with a noisy switch.
Then – without warning – the picturesque bolt comes down from the sky and flashes the evening with a picture of the mountains to the west.
Despite the noise, the rain, the hour, fireflies flash away. The only sign of life. I guess love doesn’t stop for nature.
I need to learn to capture these bolts so others will believe they happened at all. They’re beautiful. And they shine on a scene that only the night owl ever sees.
But not tonight. Tonight I’m just thinking about it.