Cacophonous hushings rush through the high-set louvers at the apex of an A-frame. Spring thunder mumbles distant & throaty after brief illuminations of banksia men, screw-pine palm fronds, telegraph pole. There's work to be done but the distraction is too much. Storm springs like a bad punctuation marking these droll lulls of sun, clear skies, sun, clear skies, sun, clear skies... I'm buckling the screen door to get out on deck, get the rail in my fists & lean out. A wee tripod for a wee camera is propped up & with a finger on the button I'm half breathing in anticipation - I'm itching to catch a flash so settings are tweaked to gape the shutter open for the snippet. Nothing. Ten, twenty, forty minutes out in the misting. Half breath, half breath... / flash / come on, come on, take it. But the broken finger bones of electro-luminescence tease only with a glow bulb bust behind the curtains. Downstairs I'm shifting to steal a different angle. Night thief & willing risks are flirted to catch that glimpse. Spied in a blur, baloonius orbs dripping the lust of fickle faux drought-break. It or my mind vibrates, but maybe neither. I need more. Salivating, gnash & twitch, the nearest pop-up is comandeered, had enough of these in-doors. Wet slick underfoot, Michelle was shocked as I was steppin' out.