Fires

We are small things, each of us,
living in a world burning at the edges.
As stars, as fireflies, as Earth’s center:
we are the source of both

illumination and conflagration.

***

Today’s poem is inspired by a spit of time I spent at a friend’s farm last night. We tended to a little work ‘round about dusk (thinking-man’s work, not farmer’s work), and when it was time to leave, the fireflies were out in droves. Those tiny marvels danced through the yard as the stars rose into the sky, tiny fires appearing everywhere. It was a recentering moment, the kind of moment that takes the sting out of life.

We’re heading into a weekend, and as we do, I hope you’ll take some time to steal away from the less gracious fires burning in today’s world. From the pandemic numbers. From the pain of the endless churn of news. Steal away and find something beautiful. Feast on it. Breathe it in. Celebrate it.