After Mary Ruefle 
 
Every time it starts to rain, I would like to have  
a smoke. The clouds settling in over the bronchia  
of the trees, over the branches of my lungs. Quick,  
pull up the blinds, let the grey shimmer in. Reach  
for the pipe and pack in the crumbled flower.   
Mother Nature drumming upon the childhood 
corridors of my mind. I sit swathed, pretending  
my comforter is a cloak, in an attempt to set 
the aesthetic while in pursuit of those soggy 
summer days where the Goonies would always  
triumphantly turn up the treasure of One-Eyed Willy. 
The days when the world would pause: no balls  
were thrown, no knees were skinned, no need  
to take a moment to catch my breath. Now  
when it rains, and especially when it thunders,  
I strive to reach that near-reckless level of naiveté. ​

Jonathon Bridge is currently finishing up his degree in English Literature with a minor in Creative Writing. After graduation he plans to continue his writing and making his grandma proud.