In clouds, like bees, they flit between the trees,
Chirping, silent, calling yet again,
Nestling in their pairs within the leaves,
Yet still playing life’s ongoing game.
One flash, two flash, and fires light the sky,
And spots of light spread over into space.
All things are ordered, nothing goes awry,
In the fight to carry on the race.
Where dark winds swirl, and rush over the lake
Where grey clouds pass, and blackbirds fly by day
And the air broils, turbulent in their wake
And insects cry out, echoing over the bay.
Things of dreams and passions long gone by,
The floating light, the humble firefly.


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