Last year, we watched a million fireflies
at Grandma Bartlett’s farm, twinkling in the trees
as if reflecting all the billion stars
against the treetops rippling in the breeze.
My memory is dim, but in the dark
I think we reached to hold each other’s hand;
and in the moonlight, warmed each other’s heart;
and let out sighs across the glowing land.
That night, I saw my future in the swarms
of swirling lights: the dancing of those wraiths
revealed a thousand fears, a hundred harms,
and yet a hundred hopes, a thousand faiths;
and in the dance, I seemed to see your smile—
love of my life, and mother of my child.