On the Cultivation of Fireflies — a poem

Eeek out a place
for yourself deep
in the woods – far
from the burr
of highways,
street racers,
the din of air termini.

Plant yourself
some tiny white
lights set
                  to blink.

Sit up in an unlit
window – watch,
                 with childlike expectancy.


* * *

A memory from a recent trip to Upstate South Carolina, staying at a vineyard, where each night we were visited by the fairy lights of fireflies.