Drove around Devil’s
Around the next curve I saw pinprick flashes of light over a tall-grassed meadow, the air randomly phosphorescent at a thousand evanescent points of suddenly-not-dark, and hit the brakes, pulling into grass tall enough that it stood at chin level when I opened my door.
I climbed onto the car roof, into dusky air alive with a luminance dancing and flitting like weightless, flickering stars. I sat for an hour as the sky sank to black, watching them.
Then I drove home. And I fell asleep with the pirouetting sparks still whirling around me, thousands of lightening bugs, close around and above, calling for mates in a lustrous dark, in vapor-ribboned air that smelled of rain.
Labels: prose poem
