The Aurora
Life in the
South suits me
just fine —
warm winters,
slow speech,
kudzu, and
iced tea.
But just once
I want to
stand in the
frigid dark,
wrapped in
a fur-lined
parka,
mukluks
on my feet,
scanning the
horizon for
a snow drift
that might morph
into a polar bear
and watch
the aurora borealis
explode across
the night sky —
green and red
lights
circling and waving,
twisting and weaving,
in a shimmering
dance.
— Karen Filipski
