by Andy Bozeman
To-ing and fro-ing among deep, Southern shadows of frond and scented petal,
Tracing cold fire through mottled, leafy veil, leaning against a warm blue sky,
Cooling, as the heat of day spends its last, saved glow of sunshine,
Fireflies leave golden traces,
Rising up with lazy paces,
Upward toward the starry places,
Where waits the glow of astral lights,
Inviting all into the heights,
To play a shimmering game,
When one glistening point cannot be told from another, whether of Heaven or Earth.
The night is just as it seems,
A wonder to behold.