A storm blew in before the sun could challenge its strength. The dining room curtains flew up, partial apparitions of old ghosts flying by my house, as the pre-dawn light suddenly seemed alive with movement. Leaves from house plants and yesterday’s mail lifted up off the kitchen counter, waves on a hidden sea. From clear, hot summer night to cool, damp twilight in a matter of minutes, my lungs filled with the changing atmosphere. I stood in the channel between the north and south windows and felt it electrify my skin with its caress. Rumi said never go back to sleep, the breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you. So I stood there, still as stone, and let the storm blow in. Come to me, my love, I have missed you.