less than perfect storm

The lightning translates to static on the radio. I watch from the back seat of the truck as it illuminates the dark sky. I'm reminded of the lightning party we held in the park last spring - to think it's almost been a year.

I long to be out of the truck with my back on the ground, looking into the darkness. I won't need an umbrella, let the rain drops soak my pale skin. I'll wake to the early sun light drying me, warming me back to life.