As my children and I huddle

Trembling in the darkness

Illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight

I wonder about her

 

As thunder rolls and crashes

And wind whips, and rain punishes

And lightning slashes and stabs the angry sky

I worry about her

 

That frail, old woman

Alone in the big house

High on the cliff

Above the sea

 

I see candlelight

Flicker in her windows

Tiny fairies frolicking

Behind old lace

 

Struggling to peer through the deluge

I gasp…

Realizing

She’s standing in the storm

 

Her long, gray hair

Usually swept up in a neat bun

Cascades down her back

Soaked but free

 

Her wet cotton nightgown

Clings to old bones

As she sways, keeping time

With the rhythmic drumming of thunder

 

She is Life

Dancing with abandon

And Truth

Her energy inviting

 

My children look at me

Puzzled

As I laugh and

Nod my head

 

I wink and grab their hands

Pulling them out into the storm

To dance…oh, we dance

Celebrating her wisdom

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/age-old-questions/