past all of the corn

when there is an extra burst of light in the noticeably dark restaurant,
once
and then twice,
just for a few seconds at a time,
coming from somewhere i can not place
and i ask my companions
what is that light?
and h says
the back door, at the same time that p says
the heavens opening up
and we all laugh

the hugeness of the red pink gold blue sky cradling me as I pedal home past all of the corn, and upon entering the wooded path the light fades so much so that the fireflies become the
flashing bike lights
of the fairies