moments before dusk

by Carissa Dewey

An evening in July,
a cool evening-
goose bumps cover my bare limbs.

I sit in a yard on an old street,
still light out –a faint light
at this late afternoon hour,
still new – the late setting sun.

Fire flies drift by and I watch
them in this yard,
in these bushes, trees.

And I imagine these houses,
this street, these cars melting away.

And it's an evening in July,
I am in a field, I’m tired
and in the deserting sun
fire flies fade into the expanse.


Author's Note: I just read a little about fire flies or lightening bugs, and there are areas of the world where fire flies synchronise their flashes among large groups precisely. That would be sweet to see. So, something very odd happen to me concerning this poem. I was inspired to write it while I was siting in my friends yard waiting for her to come meet me, I wrote it that night. The following night I found myself, by chance, in a field at dusk watching fireflies. I don't know if it was by chance or if I meant something. Whatever the meaning was, it did leave a big impression on me and thought that fellow writers would appreciate the sort of coincidence. :)

Posted on 07/14/2009
Copyright © 2021 Carissa Dewey

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