I wondered how poets could write about anything else.
Before the full blackness settles in
On a perfect warm night
That makes me feel like mostly naked is the best way to be
(I just can't hold on to anxiety in weather like that)
Where once was a swath of mottled darkness
To which my eyes were trying to adjust
A spark! Floating and fading
Not bothersome like the moth
Nor pestilent like the mosquito
The firefly hovers off a ways
Kind of friendly, clearly benign
And a magical part of the evening
Feeling a calm joy I go back inside
Reminded that there are many good things out there
That I can't see.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/postpurchase/825090080/
No comments:
Post a Comment