Running through tall grasses
glass jar in hand, cover off –
I can still detect a faint scent
of peanut butter wafting up.
He traps one first, a firefly,
lightning bug, mom calls it,
his lid on tight, holes punched
for air to get in, bouncing off
the sides, looking for escape;
my jar empty, we lie down
looking through glass at the sky,
jar light obscuring our vision.
Frantic firefly bangs glass over
and over until I cry. Finally,
he opens the jar to let it go,
I see starlight through my tears.
Selected by Nolcha FoxImage Robert V. Ruggiero
