Hustle and Bustle

Being in the middle of a whirlwind is breath-taking 

Exhilarating

Stuffy hallways

Rounding corners 

Voices combined with huffing going up crowed stair ways 

the daily shuffle

Is not a whirlwind that sweeps me

Longing for the crack of thunder in the sky

the pounding rain soaking hair and skin

wind surrounding me

Me: the eye of a perfect storm

My whirlwind is still calling me in the crip frosted vibrance of fall

In the sloshy spring

In the heavy heat of summer

In the tundran calmness of winter.

It always calls me

to New York

to Europe

to anywhere where the hustle and bustle will consume me whole

And I will invite it with a smile,

huge and welcoming. 

Surrounded by the masses

The loud colors 

The vibrant sounds 

the tastes

smells 

feelings 

emotions 

All will whisk me away and I will be where I belong.

In the worst storm

The storm only I could handle.  

Smack dab in the Hustle and Bustle of things.