POEM 23
Oh to join the waltz of fireflies dancing through the night.
Rhythmic points of green fire, what a joyous sight.
Thousands flicker endlessly in bioluminescent flight.
They blink and glide, setting a forest aglow.
So many little strobe lamps you know, flitting in the dark of the woods giving a giant light show.
Lightning bugs froze in a camera’s quick snap of bright, are suddenly green baubles like strings of lime colored lights.
Ah but I much prefer them naturally–blinking–flashing–firing as they might.
Lightning bugs and fireflies are such a rite of summer. They are like little strobe lights. I remember them from childhood, catching them in a jar at night to let them go before bedtime. Thanks for bringing back the memories.