By Joseph Hesch
Saw you swing through the downspout of
floodlight in the backyard last evening.
I thought you were just another evening bug,
a red buzzer in zig-zag flight.
But you were saturated with radiance
after you zipped from the shower of photons.
I could see the glow of your afterburner
in the dark over by the shed.
Unlike the other bugs, you avoided
the porch’s cone of brightness,
confident out there in the dark.
You appeared to wear the crown
of the incandescent
Suddenly, you were joined by a host
of fiery friends, blinking messages
only your kind might comprehend.
I think I understood something
of what you were saying, though,
when I flipped off the switch
and joined you in the night.
I too became illuminated, aware that
when things are at their dimmest,
we must make our own light
to help us find the way,
to have confidence we aren't going
to be alone in the darkness.
Not for too long.