Just Before the Storm

Just ladies turn circles,

Umbrellas open toward the sun. The

Sweet smell of

Thyme is on everyone’s lips.

Bashful men stand idling in their

Ecru smiles.

Flamboyant boys running through,

Opening up the crowd.

Racing by, the girls start to shiver.

Enough has been done.

They look

High in the air and find the sky a color of grey.

Embellished lights flash.

Someone wails from a distant,

Treacherous place.

Open doors slam shut,

Rotating the room. The lights go out,

Moving everyone into tears.