You illuminate my being. When the sun goes down and vapors of a hot and humid day hang low, you tiptoe along one by one across the skyline. Soft-footed. I lay back and marvel at how you engulf the velvet blue of the evening and add a surreal neon glow to the edges of the sky. You are the prelude to a wafer-thin moon floating like a forgotten kite; the precursor to tiny, mad hoppers appearing out of nowhere, flitting across the grass like Gulliver’s little world come alive. You come on and make a hushed shadow fall across the park and embolden me enough to grasp the dark lushness of grass with a certain fearlessness. You do not deter plump little fireflies -they still appear, not bedazzled by your light but a little lost in spite of their own. There is comfort in your impersonal, flickering fire. You are the beacon, the siren call, the true north that all dark thoughts seek.
5 years ago