It’s that time of year when nighttime brings a special bug to light. At dusk fireflies blink on and off, giving the eyes a workout as they dart here and there to catch the passing light. I called them lightening bugs or fireflies interchangeably when I was a girl. I remember how I would catch the bugs and put them in a glass jar to serve as a light. Not very nice to the bugs though I let them go after a few minutes. Even worse, I sometimes pulled off the glowing part when lit and stuck it on my finger to pretend it was a diamond. I don’t touch the fireflies these days but I relish the evenings in summer when I can enjoy the critters glowing around me!
Fireflies
By Marilyn Kallet
In the dry summer field at nightfall,
fireflies rise like sparks.
Imagine the presence of ghosts
flickering, the ghosts of young friends,
your father nearest in the distance.
This time they carry no sorrow,
no remorse, their presence is so light.
Childhood comes to you,
memories of your street in lamplight,
holding those last moments before bed,
capturing lightning-bugs,
with a blossom of the hand
letting them go. Lightness returns,
an airy motion over the ground
you remember from Ring Around the Rosie.
If you stay, the fireflies become fireflies
again, not part of your stories,
as unaware of you as sleep, being
beautiful and quiet all around you.
XOXO Rachel
Magical Moment Mondays: Fireflies
Wondrance 