No electricity, no power for television, phone, to cook or to clean. Candles scattered around the house. Dots of light illuminating the dark evening presence. Curtains drawn closed to keep the winds outside yet it still manages to whistle down the chimney. Orange and yellow flames leap to greet it as I pile timber upon timber. The longing for a cup of tea so strong, my mind torments me as to how it tastes, two sugars and a drop of milk.
Alone, the silence of the house annoys me, yet when power will be restored, the TV, the phone, the computer will fill this quiet bubble and then I shall long for silence.
So I sit by my fire, writing by candle-light. Stopping to do some crochet for a change. I am adjusting, I enjoy my own company and allow my thoughts and dreams of past-times to entertain me.
I salute this storm that made me sit and be content in what was another busy day in my life.
Lightning strikes, silent, without thunder.
Rains tumbling down, spearing this earth.
Winds gushes past, playing monsters at large.
Performance over, stillness descends.
Moves on to another town.