Storm light

It was a twist in the mid-phase of the storm that drew off our power that afternoon.
We ventured through the house, sensing the light trickle from rooms and dissolve into the humid, leaf-strewn landscape.
Now we began to ration each joule from our cell phones, our refrigerator, our laptops,
For a single beam of energy would strike like a sword through the halls and chambers of our square apportionment of space.

When should we phone to ensure some relative we were safe?
When invite the brusqueness surrounding our sanctuary to tumble into our silence by tuning to a news report?
How much time to expend on searching for the scallions?
We noticed light like gold dust encoiled in barren canyons.

Those times when we could not justify the generation of light,
We stood with heads bowed,
Taking in the darkness with the whistling of the maples and the drumming of the rain.
In those heavy moments I learned why we praise the evening for its approach, because only then
Does a single candle bear a tale.

Ultimately the storm dropped us like a sodden rag to visit more westerly valleys,
And we emerged into a sunshine so vibrant that it seemed to drench our world.

Andy Oram
December 21, 2012

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