Whisper to a Mason Jar
Iím in love with the little midges
that dance in the sunlight, their green wings
fluttering so quickly that they seem suspended in mid-air.
When I die, I want to become a creature like that
cavorting in sunbeams and buffeted by the wind.
I love the little spiders, too, tiny, bright
transparent and gelatinous but full of so much potential.
Just to know that I could grow from a pinprick
a spot on a piece of paper
into a hairy brute that sent housewives screaming
to the top of chairs, a bird-killer,
something with venom powerful enough
to stop a manís heart
I could wind my dreams about that.
I love the fireflies the best, though
blinking serenades across the water
disguising themselves as perfectly ordinary brown beetles
only unfurling their secret starlight at night.
I am also a firefly. I know
there is potential for sunshine inside me as well,
there is an unexpected brilliance
just waiting to explode.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Holly Day would be
pleased to hear them.