Firelies, I Miss

a little ode to the bug friends

Dusk ushers in lightning bugs

while I wear the night air

like a coat; cool grass

staining my feet in pursuit of

their tantalizing flash.


It’s as if stars have fallen

from the sky into my backyard.


With gentle enthusiasm I

cup my small hands around

their bitty beetle bodies. Teensy feet

tickling my palms, melting away

any worries. Feeling as if we

are in a deep exchange of grace.


Naivety at the helm, I plop my twinkling

friends into my candy bug jar. If I can keep

them here with me, maybe too

I can safeguard these feelings of

peace and security – defend them

from the dark realities that

make up the bulk of

my childhood memories.


But another part of me knows I

must relinquish their spasmodic glow

back into the symphony of the Midwest

evening. Allow the fireflies to dance

freely amongst the wallowing drone

of cicadas, the unabating

chirp of the crickets’ stridulation.


Though I’ve set them free, these bugs

continue to illume my memories.

Intermittent sparkles to an

otherwise dimly lit abyss.