Summer Storm Theatre: a Prose-Poem
Poetry Contest: Summer Songs
Rainstorm brings boathouse theatre: sent there for respite, ours from quiet constraint, our grandparents’, from our noise.
Days of sun were easy: dock, boats, water, forest, frog pond, repeat – but it’s Muskoka, days of run-on rain are entirely expected.
Rainy days, the old log cabin soon became too small, so the boathouse became our refuge. After lunch, when Nana’s nap needed silence, no game remains whispered, for 7, 9, & 10. The giggles spurt despite our best intent, so off to the boathouse we go.
First, we roll and giggle, dance and caper, act out our own imaginary scenes, until the wet weather ramps into uproar, drawing our attention with its disturbance.
With the big boathouse door open to the lake, the thunderstorm plays on a panoramic screen.
Lightning shocks the sudden dusk of afternoon with tingling blue fire. Thunder-grumble rises, cracks and crashes. Hands clapped over ears, we squeal with terror and delight in equal measure. Storm-struck, riveted, our hearts pound in cadence.
This thrilling drama has its own suspense: how hard can rain, rain? Will it slow, and bring more lightning delight, more thunder-cracked whips to make us jump and clutch each other? Will there be…
