The Firefly

A speck of wandering yellow paints a eye catching streak,

in the dark hued multi layered palette of the still night,

as the firefly wanders around in seemingly random patterns,

that whisper life into those minute patches that it touches.

A magic wand of winking light that travels freely where it wills,

that weaves a unique pattern that lights up the heavy heart,

pulling the rabbit of hope and joy out of the hat of abject despair,

leaving a lightness of mind that was not possible ‘ere it passed.

As it starts its unceasing routine each hot humid evening,

winking its way through each brush and bough tirelessly,

shining on like a beacon into the shadowy depths of the forest,

a mirage that is there one second and disappears the next.

A neon trail that paints your mind’s eye in psychedelic light,

a dotted line that seemingly connects your wandering thoughts,

a honey guide that leads a parched soul to a river of ambrosia,

the firefly unthinkingly winks its way into the depths of your soul.

Until finally the solitary seeking light is joined by another similar,

and a ballet of luminescence plays itself out on a dark stage,

as the firefly finds the mate that it untiringly shone its beacon for,

 shaming the cynicism that cloaks the life around this heliograph.