What It's Like Here

The fireflies are out tonight in my front yard. They're flying around, lighting up their bodies like tiny glowsticks at a dance party. It's a hot humid sticky night, the kind of night that's pregnant, just waiting to deliver up a roaring thunderstorm. The kind where the rain comes down in sheets, drenching you the minute you step into it. The kind that smells like summer. The kind where you just stand, with your arms out and your face turned up to the sky.