A Poem for September

FIREFLY FLY AWAY HOME

I didn’t notice when they left,
the fireflies that danced
all summer in the yard.
But on a September night I saw
the last one lying in the grass,
glowing steady. Unblinking.
An accusing eye
that would not close.
Frozen wide in shock,
or wonder, or dying.

Then as the dark grew darker
and the first of the cold, colder,
I saw it was more than unblinking,
it was slowly burning out.

Like leaving home in a car at night,
the local radio station fading,
gradually,
into static.

2 thoughts on “A Poem for September

  1. Mom

    I wodered aloud to Jean the other night “What happens to lightning bugs at summer’s end?” because I hadn’t seen any lately. I saw one circling upward last night toward the full harvest moon…

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