It is a beautiful day outside. It feels like spring, which makes me happy. But there is something about spring that makes me feel nostalgic. I love late spring when the fireflies are out and the honeysuckle is in bloom. And twilight. There is something magical about this combination for me. Fireflies always seem to make their way into my writings. When I was young and lived up north, I remember my first real firefly experience. We were renting a house out in the country and took a walk one evening. We went past a field of corn that had been harvested, and it was full of fireflies. I had never seen so many. On our way back, the stars had come out, and we were far out enough that it was pretty spectacular, and the fields were still full of light. It was breathtaking. Starlight and firefly light. Trees and fields. Walking through quiet streets. Like songs from my youth, fireflies are memories.
Days like this I wish for a swing. It’s a day for reading poetry. It’s a quiet kind of day.
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