The Fireflies (reprinted from the Fall/Winter 2009
The Fireflies
On summer evenings
sometimes my family
sat on the back porch
after dark. Already in pajamas,
I was one fight with my brothers
from bed. But, if the fireflies flashed--
I would take a jar and chase them.
My bare feet in the damp grass
didn't mind the pebbles and cherry stones.
All my other senses were turned down,
enabling sight to be its keenest.
I'd stare into the black, waiting
for the flash. Then, I'd run
towards the light. I wanted to hold,
just for a few moments,
my own bright mystery:
a bug in a washed-out pickle jar
conquering the night.
- molly saccardo Wednesday, December 30, 2009
