There is a warm wind.  It shakes the house, rattles the windows which have been open all night, and makes the doors sound like someone is there, trying to get in.  It's a storm; a mild summery Nor'easter, with clouds close and fast moving one way, and above them, high and slow, other clouds moving the other way.  The warm, wild air through the screen makes me glad that I am here. 

On a night like this, with God panting so near, can heaven be far behind?