At dusk

transition from late day to early night
we see them hovering almost walking on
warm evening summer air
sauntering from one flower to the next
not quite dashing about
as pollinating bees have been known to do
almost in a hush never quiet enough
we creep through tall grass and short weeds
catch fire flies in glass jars
go running through the night
natural light a-flame
what should we do
so graceful and unbound
frantically searching for a way out
I think I need to poke bigger holes in this lid of casual death
let's breath our next thought
do the fire flies understand what glass means
some we let go others have to be dumped into our hands
others are pinched separated from their self lights
warn as finger rings
surely they did die
do we understand the fire fly
let us breath in our next thought
dusty remains broken wings
settle at the bottom of glass jars recently forgotten
but not recently abandon
lyrically hanging
the remaining hum of children breathing
synchronized from wind chimes
swaying in time with fire flies
pulsating lights
wind rhythms
searching for an existence
to appreciate it's life songs
enriched with the beauty of coming and going
hanging on the end of last words
when the moons bright shine
cast no doubts on the marrow
of the dances lovers do
banished by ghost
we sit in small circles
and talk as though we know
what this day has been about
we realize the fire flies beauty we must observe
they trust and fly close
temped to hold them
they walk on the back of hands
finger to finger
face to face
let us breath in our next thought
do the fire flies really know who we are
creep along next to the river bed
shoe less footprints
mud squished between toes
ankle deep in summers water
shoes held in the right hand
a corked stick in the left hand
poking a dead floating frog
bloated dead fish and flies floating
this is where we always stop
it's to scary
the grave yard is just over there
guarded by cement angles
with a broken wing
cement gargoyles
with broken dreams
a fresh grave in our sight
the new dirt mound
creep into our nostrils
we stop and stare
we don't breath
we don't blink
we don't speak
in unison we turn to leave
we see the fire flies
fly threw the moonlights reflection
of this summers evening

jrg, Feb 2009
Copyright © 2009 by Jeff R. Ghee