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Description
Fireflies swarmed
in the warm Illinois night.
And I, young and bereft of fire,
stood in wonder
at their pent-up magic.

A waking dream
on the edge of reality.
I remember their tail lights, still.

Even then, I had no wish
to capture fireflies;
I could not hold them in tight fists.
They were too free for that
and I too caged.

I want magic in my life.
A little light,
a tiny lantern.

I'm years away
from that Illinois summer.
Lost in my own frontyard,
I sense no wonder,
only the empty buzz of mosquitoes.

Life stings.
Life itches.
Life calls for a liberal dose of calamine lotion.

As dusk deepens,
I stand alone in shadow.
No bright fireflies—
not even the gleam
of a crescent moon.
Where are the magic lights
I was promised in my childhood?

Burnt out
before they could fly away.