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
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.