Last night, the heavy clouds pulsed. Slight thundery rumbles and then silence, real silence. I’m not sure how it was possible, what with the standard stream of traffic outside and other Friday night shenanigans. Even the rain minded its manners.
At first it appeared at the edge of the horizon, which for me is the top of what might be Sydenham Hill, I still haven’t worked it out despite living here for twenty years. I thought there were fireworks just beyond the reach of sound but then the pulses grew wider and brighter and the silence became more pronounced.
The morning after is muggy and cloud-bright. The birds are kicking off about something. The thumpy festivals that shut off the park for the month have packed up and rolled off to become spreadsheets and stock reports.
I’ll remain open to that silence beneath all things, the silence that the sheet lightning spoke of. When I listen close enough, I always end up with something worth saying.
14/06/2025
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