Flying Thunder

Rain falls slowly at first
A soft splattering scintillated pattern of dots
That thickens into a thunderstorm
That's right - complete with green skies,
Flashes of light
And those crashes of thunder that rattle the house.

When we were six or seven
(Remember? those days of recess and counting and shapes)
We escaped for an hour
Or less, it's hard to say for sure
To the playground, to dance in a downpour
(A deluge, if alliteration allows it)
Of water and light and sound
And you kissed me by the swings
In that instant before our parents
Arrived with their don'ts and their towels and our dry clothes.

We tried to fly, that summer
And now you've made it, or so I've been told.
Or I did -
First person, third...second
Shifting constantly
It doesn't really matter.

And these days I wish I could join you
Take that plunge (or is it leap?) into the air
And in that skyborne instant
Swing on the power lines
Tapdance on the telephone poles
And with a stomach-lurching flip
Finally touch the clouds.