Firefly

by Red Dragon Goodness

One moment you are working in London

And feeling frustrated 

And miserable

And you blink

And you are walking across northern rural Spain

And you blink

And you are back in London

And riding on the tube

And it is always winter

And cold

And you are always wearing a thousand layers 

And you feel you could never be warm again

And twenty-four hours without sleep

And two plane trips later

You are back in America

And it is June

And it is summer! 

Oh summertime

I have missed you! 

To walk outside

Without endless layers 

Scarves and beannies and gloves

Just shorts and a t-shirt

And flip flops 

Is bliss

To be back with my love

And to have returned to the cabin in the woods

Sitting on the porch

Watching a storm swirl by

The way the leaves flutter

The way the tall trees bend and wave with the whirling wind

To see lightning flash the sky

And hear thunder crashing

Feeling its rumble in the earth

And in the evening

To sit on the same porch

And smell earth and trees

Blessed by rain

And watch fireflies flicker in the forest

The sparkle of their little luminescents   

Like tiny twinkling fairy lights 

Feels like a delicious dream

And you’re glad you’re here

The end. 

Storm Time

from http://www.wfsb.com/ 

I love storms.

The smell,

The fizzle crackle in the air,

And the sound of rain.

But tonight I was nervous. 

Warnings of flash floods and tornadoes across the state,

And being a grown-up in a place of children,

I felt a responsibility. 

A couple of the campers I work with

Are afraid of storms,

And I came across one of my theatre babies

In the theatre,

Huddled over

Tense and barely breathing.

I sat with her,

Offered my hand

And she clasped it tight.

And every time the thunder roared

She held her breath and shivered.

We sat together,

And chatted through the storm.

I joked about singing My Favorite Things

It seemed appropriate. 

And we giggled at the thought of becoming the cliche. 

And to help her breathe

I told her breathing deeply would be like practicing diaphragm exercises. 

If she wanted to play Elphaba, she’d better get practicing. 

It made her laugh. She breathed, and trembled a little less with every thunder clap. 

The storm passed. 

I ended up sitting in the Music Shed with a couple of campers

And my friend with a beautiful wooden flute.

Occasional patters of rain danced across the roof.

My friend played his flute.

And I felt calm. 

And I felt that this is what being a grown-up must be like.

To be put your own fears aside

And help the smaller ones around you. 

The end.