There’s a storm coming.

Black clouds covering

the sky, the wind

plays with my ebony hair,

my lacy sleeves as it brushes over my imagined wings.

Sitting outside on the front porch steps

with you standing beside me.

I want nothing more than to take

to the skies---flying.

I say so and you stare at me

“Are you crazy?”

Yes I am.

But the pull to dive into the wind

As if I’ll be blown away

is too strong.

I smile at you

and tell you not to

stop me,

and I’m closing my eyes, slipping through the sky

before you can reply.

The wind howls around me

I’m on one air current and then the next.

And then it starts to rain,

pelting me as if

to throw me out of the sky,

their sky.

And it’s such the opposite of

numb days spent in the sunlight—

ironically so good to feel pain—

that I let out a pure shriek

of joy,

but it’s lost among the thunder

and the wind.

Right now I feel

that I could fly in this storm,

Forever.

--  Kelsey Swensen
Patuxent 7-12