I saw a lone firefly last night
Why didn’t you alight, small soul
before September? See, now your ember
will burn alone
You’ve missed your chance for hearth and home
your time to glow has long since ended
Or can it be there’s something only
you can see
Something so sweet and surpassingly free
that all else fades in its perfect Light?
Tell me, tell me, gentle soul
is it true?
And if it is, then swear you’ll take me
with you when you go
∴
Dedicated to my sister Linda Lee
That is a beautiful tribute, Mitch. Also very sad. I”m so sorry if this means what I think you are saying.
Probably not, but thank you, my friend.
Oops?
I loved this when I first read it. I thought of it again last week when I saw a Monarch butterfly fluttering by on a rare 80 degree November day in Missouri.
Delicate, lovely and haunting, Mitch. A sad, wistful, beautiful piece.
Thank you, Steve.
So sweet, Mitch.
Thank you, Kellye.
Beautiful 💕
Thank you, Paula.
Beautiful. ❤️
Thank you, Deborah.
This is beautiful!
Thank you, Aaysid.
Very touching words.
lump in throat
Evocative expression of longing for that which we cannot grasp.
The beauty of wonder here. Nice. God bless, Mitch!
Thanks, Nancy.
Just lovely. Captures that wistfulness that fireflies seem to evoke in us.
Thank you, Dora.
The fleeting fragility of life.
Love this. Taps a feeling that I try to keep at bay but nevertheless should be felt.
So very touching.
Glad it touched you, Anita.
We usually find our way to the windows at dusk to see what fireflies have stopped by to say hello. Even though our days have gotten cooler now, and the firefly season may have ended, after reading this I’ll keep checking for the next couple of weeks just to make sure they all get their due. Well done, Mitch.
Thanks, Bruce.
Beautifully done. And a sweet honor for your sister. Good going, Mitch.
Thank you, JM.
Mitch,
Beautiful thoughts indeed. They shine brighter in the darkness.
Thank you, Gary
True indeed, Gary.
American teacher and writer, Linda Lee?
If you’re thinking of Bruce Lee’s widow, no.
Lovely poem. Just wondered.
I find this beautiful and a bit elusive, evoking a desire to read it again and again.
Happy to hear that, Manette.
I concur with the comments of your other readers. A lovely, wistful poem.
Thank you, Liz.
You’re welcome, Mitch.
Wonderful poem. Thank you! PS I always loved catching fireflies!!
Me too. Thanks, Pete.
We have a lot of grasshoppers where I live, which hatch in the spring, grow through the summer, and plant their eggs and die in the fall. I’ve long imagined how strange it would be if I were the last of those grasshoppers still alive each season. Once surrounded by a great horde, now the only one remaining, perhaps oblivious to the fact that there will ever be any others. And after your mass extinction a new generation will rise, but one that never knows you were even here.
Sounds like a story waiting to be written, Abe.
Oh, it has been 🙂
https://givemepenandpaper.com/2018/11/29/the-last-grasshopper/
Haunting thought in the poem… a single beacon blinking in the night. Who will follow its light home?
This is beautiful, Mitch. Linda Lee was my late aunt’s name. Gone too soon, she was like a mom to me. 💗
So touching, Michele.
💗
Even though I am not familiar with the seasons of fireflies, I was touched by the feelings of fleeting time evoked by this poem.
Glad it touched you, Gwen.
Sweet and lovely. We saw a bunch of fireflies the other night all around our backyard; it was beautiful and the grandkids were in awe. I realized it’s been a long time since I saw a firefly. I wonder where they’ve been hiding.
They seem to ebb and flow from one year to the next.
Lovely!
I love your use of metaphor in this beautifully eloquent piece. It can mean so many different things to each of us. I see myself a wistful dreamer in this gorgeous firefly. ✨
Delighted to hear that, Derusely.
I love this, Mitch. Makes me think that things are not always as I may first think them to be.
So true, Patty.
Small things count. Don’t they, Mitch? You showed us that so eloquently. Thank you!
My privilege.
Tears. Thank you, brother Mitch.
My privilege, Sis.
Lovely words for your sister. She’s a lucky gal.