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8AM Sunday

I wake at eight am and hear the thunder roll across the horizon and I think of you. "What are you doing now? Where are you? How are you? Are you all right?" And I listen to the thunder, hoping it can tell me the answer, because I cannot turn the computer on to ask you. The computer is never on during a thunderstorm.
But no answers come from the rolling thunder, so I lie in doubt, but have to be certain that you are all right and so I imagine your arms coming around me and we lie together listening to the thunder and I know that you are okay, because now you are with me and no harm can come to either of us.
And shortly after I am asleep again, with your supportive arms around me, giving me comfort and warmth in the chill morning.
This is for Nick
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September 21, 2003
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