“Catching Lightning”
Luciferase, instead of fusion, lights the stars beneath the trees.
We always called them Lightning Bugs, playmates the size of bees.
A game called Mother May I, you move and then you stop,
Wait for the next green signal, just like a traffic cop.
When you get close enough that you can see it in the dark,
Just sweep your hand to catch it with a gentle little arc.
It will alight upon your skin and puzzled, move around,
As if to wonder how the heck it just got on the ground.
They are a gentle creature. Their feet don’t even hurt.
As larger beetles sometimes do, as if their boots were spurred.
They walk around and taste you some, but quickly they get bored,
And soon they jump up in the air, and once again they‘ve soared.
Off to join the traffic. It’s rush hour there, you know.
This is a serious business, they’re not just putting on a show.
They have to find their mate out there, with just a tiny light.
Although they are just tiny bugs, they seem to me quite bright.
NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 29, 2004
Ahh the memories of childhood. Thanks for the reminder. ;-)
Good morning Bob!
“Catching Lightning” I love it! Thanks much, always nice to see you in the Lair.