Fireflies

I cannot put out the electric fireflies

that wing in when I think of you in summer heat

and star jasmine ---

a swing, the sun wound

down, and a concert in your eyes,

Spanish

guitar, as we push with our feet and bring

ourselves with breeze into the sky for a few seconds

before we flow back to earth and beyond,

and once more try to cling to sky.

The brown thrasher ---

did you know she has a thousand songs to sing–

made a nest nearby, and fledglings beg

to fly but linger --

not yet, not yet, I’m not ready,

I can’t,

and back to earth we come in our

deliberate hesitation.

Tomorrow, daring.

Next Chapter: Bridge to Istanbul