At first glance, only shadows
Only wisps of black knitted into
The patchwork quilt of springy turf
Where magic warms the notes of moon's music,
Light playing upon scruffy T-shirt and shorts,
Hair swirling, legs
Twirling,
Hoping to gather treasure in her net
Then out of dark and fresh-lain night:
A tiny little bead of light
Up, up swoops the net with arms raised high
And the balls of bare feet jump to meet
The moon
And lo, the little flickerin' thing
Is caught up in the net
And she reaches balled fist in eagerly,
Band-Aids patching up hurts of yesterday,
And tiny, warty fingers fix themselves round their catch,
But, try as she will to cut off its light,
Clasping both hands round the firefly,
She cannot kill the hope of the creature
That has been caught before,
And the giggles, the attempts to close in the beams of yellow
Only amuse the moon
For what would parents know of such important matters?
And as she releases the firefly's light
It sails back off into the night.
Three Lakes, Wisconsin
