Rain

Thunder. They shuddered. For a second the power failed, the room blinked dark, flashed on and Betsy laughed.  

 “Thank you,” he said.

 Betsy walked to the window and stared into the night. “Harry?”

 “Betsy.”

 “For the dance?”

 “For the dance.”

 Harry turned off the lights and they stood in shadows. A nearby streetlight spread pouring rain before them.  Softness in the air became song.  

They undressed slowly, tossing each garment to distant dream.  Then the door and for a second they stood looking at the rain.  Stepping out, they turned to each other.  Betsy took his hand and twirled and bowed.  Harry bowed.

The night grew around the rain, the silence in-between and the two stepped in, a swing, a run, a turn and Betsy tossed her head back.  Harry spread his arms and drank the sky.  They ran, oh how they ran in the rain.