The electricity went out—
winter dusk sat in line,
but I still lit a candle for effect.
The dog and I settled on the sofa to wait.
I heard a large truck drive by, but
we had nested on our cozy couch.
We didn’t look out the window.
I turned a page in my book.
People were talking loudly on my country road,
but I ignored them.
Odd that anyone would be strolling by
with dark encroaching on their path.
The dog’s warm body, curled up beside me,
prevented me from rising. He didn’t bark.
I heard loud noises.
Perhaps a tree went down in the storm.
I started another chapter in the book,
engrossed in another Hieronymus puzzle, filling my mind
with a satisfying appetizer to a black-out meal of pb&j.
My mind drifted to the noise outside,
but the dog turned over, exposing his plump belly.
I gently rubbed his fur and took a sip of tea.
I heard more trucks outside, then the lights turned back on,
and I knew my sojourn into another drama was over.
Turning around, I looked out the window
and watched the parade slowly exit—
an ambulance, a police car, a utility truck.
