Anticipation.

In a darkened room waiting quietly,
For the show to begin.
An audience of one,
still with anticipation I sit.
Opened wide, the windows.
Damp cool air flooding in around my feet.
My skin tightens.
Sweet reprieve from the heat of my office.
Accounting.
Paper.
Progress.
The network says eleven it begins.
Wild wind at first.
Already black shadowy trees sway back and forth across the solid grey sky.
Bending gently, deeply,
Like they’re stretching before taking their part on stage.
Limber lumber.
First the rain.
Then lightening will waken colour.
Deepen silhouettes.
Just before thunder sends cats scurrying for box spring cover.
Waiting.
Enjoying the fresh heavy air.
Dancing shadows on plate glass.
The network may be wrong.
Glad I didn’t make popcorn.

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