Just Another Jim

Poetry

LAST NIGHT FIREFLIES WERE RISING

from the soybean field across the street,
hundreds of fireflies slowly blinking green
and rising from the acres of soybean leaves.

I went outside into the hot humidity
to watch while the crickets cricked
and the tree frogs sang their endless song.

Is it any wonder that Peter Pan was in love
with Tinkerbell, her lantern, and the idea
that nothing will ever change,

that the fireflies will always be there
to welcome the young at heart
as the daylight fades into the sleepy night?