Weather

I note that there's this strange tendency for many posts on this blog to be about rain.  That shouldn't deceive anyone into thinking it rains constantly -- although that will be the case when the monsoons hit come summer.  And I've been told they hit hard around here.

This post is a brief one, and takes the form of a sort of prose poem.  Wasn't trying to be all literary or anything, it just... I don't know, seemed like the only way to capture the feeling.

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It has been storming all night, sometimes angrily, sometimes softly, but always storming.  A stray puppy sleeps outside my door, under the cover of the porch roof, covered by a towel I sacrificed during the last storm to quiet the shivering of a different, cold pup.

It is 11:36.

An hour ago, for five minutes, the sky threw hail at the tin roof; the sound was so loud there was nothing else to think about but
Hail
Hitting
Hard.

Now the rain is gentle again, the thunder distant, echoing off the first risings of the Himalaya.

I got up for the bathroom a moment ago, flicked the light switch, click
Click
Click click

Must be something wrong, the power’s not out but
Oh --
Actually it is.

I smiled and wandered to the window,
Looked out at the darkened campus outside:
No light, no light from the dorm,
Or the lights along the walkway,
Or anywhere,
Even across the valley.

And at that moment,
In the distance,
A bolt of lightning came cutting through the sky,
Briefly illuminating the mountain where I was told
The Yeti live.

First the internet went, hours ago
And now all the power is gone;
This storm will have its due
And we all live the same,
Subjects of the weather.
Nobody here
Is bigger than the weather.

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