Anvil crawler lightning
casts its web across
a purple and gunmetal sky,
reaches blindly through
the heavens
brought low,
as if hands searching frantically
in a darkened room;
fingers extended in desperation,
feeling around, disoriented,
yearning to brush against a familiar object.
Electricity' s blindfolded attempt fades into a distant bulge of clouds.
And thunder follows thereafter
with a low and exhausted grumble
lamenting its missed opportunity
of finding some-
thing
to
touch.
