New Poem for Poetry Thursday
Lightning Bugs
What are they made of
that they can frolic and sparkle
above the delicious scent of honeysuckle
on a warm June night?
They’ll shine for anyone
to make the world less
a little less dull.
And where do they come from?
The ones I catch
seem so otherworldly.
They glide golden
against the moon’s patina,
drifting above
Big Debbie’s backyard
and Jr.’s Corner Market.
I sit on the front stoop
and watch them float
across well-warn streets,
blacktop of my misspent youth.
I offer my cupped hands
only to put them in a jar.
They cannot tell me about
captivity or what it means to love
and to set something free.
Still, like a true captor
I detain my bugs until morning
now grateful for release.
To understand indifference
I would deny them
the right to shimmer.
Copyright 2006 January G. O'Neil
What are they made of
that they can frolic and sparkle
above the delicious scent of honeysuckle
on a warm June night?
They’ll shine for anyone
to make the world less
a little less dull.
And where do they come from?
The ones I catch
seem so otherworldly.
They glide golden
against the moon’s patina,
drifting above
Big Debbie’s backyard
and Jr.’s Corner Market.
I sit on the front stoop
and watch them float
across well-warn streets,
blacktop of my misspent youth.
I offer my cupped hands
only to put them in a jar.
They cannot tell me about
captivity or what it means to love
and to set something free.
Still, like a true captor
I detain my bugs until morning
now grateful for release.
To understand indifference
I would deny them
the right to shimmer.
Copyright 2006 January G. O'Neil
Comments
They cannot tell me about
captivity or what it means to love
and to set something free.
Wonderful!
Lightening bugs, seeing them, always makes me feel like a child still full of wonder. Kind of like poetry:-)
I would deny them the right to shimmer." Wow!
Just got back from VA--can't wait to catch up on your Poetry Thursday poems.