There’s something so entrancing, so bewitching about fireflies. We want to capture them, to make them twinkle just for us, but when we do manage to coax one to stay with us, we are surprised by how meek and unexciting they really are. Just like in real life.
Fireflies in the Garden
By Robert Frost
Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start
Only, of course, they can’t sustain the part.
I am away at Falcon Ridge, camping in a field and hopefully seeing skies and grasses filled with stars. I wish you a liberal sprinkling of both, too, for your weekend.