It’s a dark and cloudy November night, and you have to close your eyes to remember fireflies. Tonight. Tonight I’m missing the on/off drifting flicker of July’s fireflies. It was months ago, I know, but they were here in July, I’m so very grateful, they were here in July, flying and flitting here and there among us, and above us, like a bit of magic, among friends. Like a folk song with a picking strum. Like the notes my friend Laura taught me to play so many years ago. Like the sound of my favorite John Prine song. Like my sister’s laugh.
Ahh, I remember the year fireflies sparkled like magic amongst the highest leaves of the tallest oak trees, mixed with the glitter of stars in a clear night sky on the 4th of July.
Cold nights have their charm, they do, but I miss fireflies. Yet I wonder if I really miss the flying and flickering here and there fireflies, or just the dreamy whimsy of a summer evening.
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etikser 