when lightening strikes

he told me to come, the sky was black and i was tucked in chair and evening, but go, i did, in the car with my man down the gravel road where wheat waves high like pale thin hands, and there, we watched the lightening strike...

and we were silent beneath the expanse, the light setting flame to cotton clouds, and us counting the seconds like our fathers taught us to, long ago, and us remembering standing with parents and candles because our baby-eyes could not sleep with the sound of world-on-fire, and so we'd watch, lightening strike

and every marriage has its moments, and this was ours. baby asleep in crib just a mile away, and us out there beneath the wonder ... and we needed it, for the week had been one of those, and our love had straggled woes, and we craved it, this fire-ball-white, this northern show of sparks and cannon-balls, and we tucked hands and wrapped arms and lightening struck

...

praying
this weekend is one where sparks fly between you and your someone
...




(photos taken by my sister-in-law, teshah wierenga, who also saw the same lightening show just two miles from us... and me, not having a camera, because husband wanted me to watch, not shoot...)