Hurry to rejoin the dancing masses. Clouds darken, the wind gusts. Cool wind brings shivers and goosebumps to sunburnt arms and legs. Lightning flashes, but no thunder sounds. The heavens do not unleash their power.
Music grinds as a rainbow appears for a fleeting second.
Bodies sprawl on the grass, the effects of the weekend beginning to take their toll. Dozing in and out of consciousness, too tired to focus on the musicmakers. Final sunset of the weekend is streaked with purple, red and orange, like a child playing with crayons used the New York sky as his canvas. Rebecca Werner's poem appears here with her express written permission and cannot be reprinted or otherwise used without her express written permission.