(First snow, then an earthquake, and now,)



"Is that thunder?" I ask No One.

If there's anything I miss in Seattle,

it's real living storms.



I throw the fish in the oven, and then

throw pants on myself, and

question if I should really run off without my coat.



It's late enough that I would have had the neighborhood to myself anyway

I wish I was able to leave the coat, and the pants,

even the borrowed t-shirt behind,

and truly absorb the night.



And I'm running up the hill,

not because I want to get away,

but because I must accept this gift of energy

that the air is giving to me.