A near miss

The rain was torrential.
Storm clouds and lightning.
Buckets of water indeed.
Washing the earth clean.

I was out in the storm.
Soaked; even with a windbreaker.
Lots of lightning and thunder.
Each flash, a boom echoed.

I was cold and wet.
Feeling sorry for myself.
The storm wasn’t letting up.
Instead, it was getting stronger.

I found shelter from the storm.
At an old abandoned bus-stop.
It gave some cover but not much.
I huddled on the seat, shivering.

Then lightning struck.
A bright flash, then thunder.
The sun inside the storm.
The bus-stop no more.

I was still sitting on the seat.
My shelter had collapsed.
A near miss. I wasn’t struck.
On shakey legs I got up.

The storm had calmed down.
Home was three miles to go.
I continue my interrupted jog.
A near miss. I was still here.

(Plucked from the inside of a morbid imagination.)

By C.E. Pereira
(29-5-2019)

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