It was clear when my husband and I set out for our walk.
The rumbling began when we reached the farthest point of our path through in the woods.
We picked up the pace.
The first crack of lightning hit as I opened the back door into our workshop.
A bright light burst out of the center of the room.
I thought a bulb had blown, but there was no light in that location.
We walked into the room and saw the balls of Zeus.
Two blue white balls of lightning shot down from the chain hoist that hung on a cross beam.
Two balls of deadly energy showering blue sparks entered our room.
They came from the sky, descended the chain, rolled for a moment on the cement floor and then disappeared.
Then it was all around us and the house shook with the claps of thunder.
We heard a sizzle and crack as lightning hit the vent pipe and the antenna.
The next day we found a white pine in the woods that had it’s top 20 feet blown off from the bottom 20 feet. The trunk remained standing but was split through the center, to the ground.
Even on a clear and beautiful morning I now listen for a distant rumble.
I can’t help but feel that this summer season is our walk towards the furthest part of our path, that the approaching fall and the election is a coming storm.
I fear that the balls of Zeus will again be summoned.
I sometimes see our Nation as that tree, blown into half and then split down the center.