His Thunder by Bethan Rees

He woke me in the middle of the night.

Thoughts of catastrophe crashed around

my skull the way winds crashed around the bricks

and shook the windows.


Nothing good happens when you’re woken

at 3am. I flip through hospital calls, family

crises and miserable train journeys

but his smile jolted electric through my veins.

He took my hand, and window by window

he tried to locate the perfect view.

The wind’s screams turned to opera

and held the house in its embrace.

The flashes of lightning lit up his eyes

in childlike wonder.

When he found his place, I found mine.

We watched the thunderstorms

for a solid half an hour.

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