There’s a yellow house on the hill.
This yellow house has a wrap around porch.
The wrap around porch hosts many parties.
These parties keep the house company and forge an amiable and welcoming atmosphere for all who join in.
The owners keep the yellow house kept and warm, filling her with both great people and memories alike.
When the sky turns a soft pink, orange, and dim gold, the other people arrive.
Each guest is as similar as they are different from one another.
They come in all sorts, some sporting name brands, while others wear what would be considered hippy garb.
Each is kind and has a unique gift and unspoken understanding of one another.
When they are fully swimming in the night, the lights are awakened.
Beautiful and vibrant pinks, blues, purples, white, greens, as well as many others bounce from tree to tree and into the space between.
The moon, as luminous and large as it is pale,
levitates still at first.
However, as time turns, the moon slowly glides along the tops of the brightly lit treetops.
The light surrounding it, becomes fainter as the lights sparkle and circle the large space.
The wood blazing in the wood burner is crepitating, emitting bright orange sparks.
The little orange sparks reach the height of the circling light formations and fade into the night air.
We sit happily chatting between tentative nibbling on chicken wings.
The sweet and spicy sauce serves as another great comfort tonight.
The air is crisp and holds the sweet scent of the blazing firewood.
The small wind carries it throughout the wrap around porch.
The chimes ding and ting almost in unison with the talking heads song that is reverberating off the walls.
Experiencing all that is here, we open our minds and feel alive.
Completely allowing ourselves to be immersed in the sweet and spicy wings, the conversations, smooth vodka sweet tea and gentle bitterness of keystone light, the light ringing of the wind chimes, the smokey scent of the wood burner, we feel as if we’ve awoken our inner child.
It doesn’t need to be vocalized to be known.
Each one of us, on this front porch, on the yellow house on the hill, suddenly remember what we’ve been missing.
Dawning Creations 