Firefly

Firefly

You, firefly, one
who lightens and darkens night
in rhythms like heartbeats,
bring muted life to my Junes
and do not belong on the peach wall
of my bedroom.

Outside you moved,
swaying with the wind
through meadows like waves
on the sea—the moonlight broken
and scattered across the surface.
It too shimmered like all of you
in your ocean of grass.

Now it is September
and there is nothing left of trees
but leaved gutters on empty
suburban streets. Brown flakes
that billow in the wake of cars.

You should be gone,
not dim and blinking alone,
solitary—all that is left
of your light-chorus.

- Tara Smith