Poem December 2019

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

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