“A Strike Like Thunder” by Ross Robertson

“Tonight I’m sitting on my deck, facing northwest. It’s a pleasant evening. A slightly gibbous moon is riding the wind. Cicadas are doing their call and response thing, crickets supply a droning chorus, and a whip-poor-will lays down its signature three-note melodic hook. The breeze brings a texture of perfumed tallows, and all in all… it’s a fine place to do my work.

The fluorescent sky is thinly overcast, veiling stars. Not so much as to hide the moon though… she and the reflected city lights hold sway on this luminous evening. The white silken gauze of clouds strobes coolly from over the horizon — hence the reason for my chaise longue orientation. A storm on the other side of Burnet County approaches. Still too far away to hear its basso profundo, but close enough to punctuate the pervasive mated glow (lunar ether and sodium vapor) with an electric lactescent pulse.”

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