At first glance, only shadowsOnly wisps of black knitted intoThe patchwork quilt of springy turfWhere magic warms the notes of moon’s music,Light playing upon scruffy T-shirt and shorts,Hair swirling, legsTwirling,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 highAnd the balls of bare feet jump to meetThe moonAnd lo, the little flickerin’ thingIs caught up in the netAnd 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 creatureThat has been caught before,And the giggles, the attempts to close in the beams of yellowOnly amuse the moon

For what would parents know of such important matters?And as she releases the firefly’s lightIt sails back off into the night.