Afternoon Storm

Lightning crosses the sky from both sides and meets above the basilica.

On my left, the sky is a dull sulfur yellow. Dark clouds move quickly from left to right, toward pink cumulus piled above the Sheraton. The hail starts, peanut-sized chunks bouncing on the balcony. A cold breeze blows through the apartment, and I imagine the ice chunks cooling the fountain.

Then the sun comes through heavy rain, lighting half of the basilica's dome, one side of the gold cross on top. It lights the flags on the Parkway, and the trees look lit from within. The fountain steams like a cauldron.

I step out on the balcony in my socks, stepping around the ice and water, to check on the Cira building. I can see its lights, but not its form.

And then, just like that, the storm is over.