It seems the electrical storm has no thought of leaving. I hunker down, putting a positive spin on the rain that it brings, how the garden will be wonderful, the creeks full, the birds clean and refreshed, after the storm subsides. But I fear deep down that the storm takes away as much as it provides. At first you watched the sky passively, sketching lightning bolts and rejecting its advances, seemingly bemused by all of the fuss. But lately I find you staring into the storm, breath on the window, coming back often when you don’t think I’ll notice, polishing your lightning rod, broadcasting into the storm deep into the night, at the crack of dawn, over lunch. Just please remember to hold onto the wooden door frame, and don’t grasp any metal. The electrical storm, however enticing and full of promise, can leave you in tatters.