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There are fireflies in my backyard. Last night found me barefoot near the apple tree. She used to have blossoms, the apple tree, and yet now she is blooming with glow. Now the heavens are dressing her. And I chuckle, because I think that the Summer envies the Winter her Christmas. When I was a little girl I spent my summer dusks waiting for the fireflies. The first time I saw one I couldn�t quite understand that they weren�t stars. They came out at night like the stars. They twinkled like the stars. And most importantly, they were still too cosmic for my 3-year-old fingers, never mind my mind, to grasp. And at the end of everyday, I would prepare myself for the back-yard constellations. Sometimes in a tree like some sort of spy, sometimes on the front porch Kool-Aid in my hand and sort of squinting to make night fall faster, sometimes from the living room with an eye carefully trained beyond the TV and past the sliding door out into the backyard. I took such pleasure in spotting the first flashing. I was sure that that�s want was meant by �supernova� yet it always struck me as hesitant. shy. Like stars do not know that they can burn that hard. My brother and my sister took pleasure in running around and capturing them. They would run shrieking through the still new night and collect their own personal galaxies in mason jars. I was more content to watch the sparkleshine. I was more content to slowly move out among then and let them a-light around me. Bernard and Devin have always wanted to posses the sky. I have always wanted to be the sky. . How Rude! - Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 - 12:16 PM One small step but no giant leap. - Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 - 11:17 AM Where's George? - Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 - 12:48 PM |
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a Nifty design 
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