Eager, waiting patiently in the night, we are kept at the line. Heavy sighs and vibrations gather, filling the interior to the brim. Caked and crusted, every perception the worst, but still patient. The long hours at work seemed expensive for their pay. Gas to and fro hardly covered it. The rain song is unique on the windshield; the same pace, pitter patter...drop drop, making play, dancing joyously encouraging the entertainment to continue. Our gazes are similar, all directed toward the right. High in the sky the sparks and fire flies fly, stretching and gliding, apprehending its viewers, but free during the only time of year they are allowed. They are a kind of their own, ones with meaning, appropriate for something greater. Holding memories of childhood, love and happiness a whimsical feeling becomes the new sensation. Only twenty more seconds and we will be free, the traffic light tired of staying in one place. It is time to send us home, the place we were eager to arrive...but that was before the beauty. Ten seconds now...nine...eight. Work wasn't that bad, and the rain not so dark and dim. The vibrations have quit, only the steady playful rain song. Finally a little appreciation. We just had to stop first and gather. Three...Two. Maybe I have learned something from this small moment: beauty becomes blury and easily forgotten on the run. One. The light turns green. The moment is done.
Stop Lights and Fireworks
June 27, 2009