Wednesday, May 22, 2024

Fireflies

Since I have more than one grandchild, five to be exact, I thought I'd reprint a poem written years ago to balance the one about the grandson in London. This granddaughter is planning on entering Law School in the fall. None of them stays little for long.


Fireflies 

           (or Elizabeth at Six) 


On a muggy Indiana night

my granddaughter filled her hand 

still sticky from cobbler 

with sluggish bugs blinking their way 

above new mown grass. 


Her fist clamped tight.


Sent to wash off the gooey mess 

she pouted in protest, unfurled her fingers,

and loosed nine tiny twinkling lights

like a handful of stardust onto the breeze.

Not an injured wing among them.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor 

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