Looking for His Love
The first firefly!
It was off, away,—
The wind left in my hand.
~ Issa
The firefly lands by chance upon my hand
And flashes there, blink, blink in twilight green.
In growing darkness little glows expand,
Expand though brief, brief, brief, the evening scene
To glimmers set against the skin and dark.
The firefly lingers brief, brief, brief and soft
Of light against my skin. A cooler, slighter spark
Would be a task to conjure. Then a waft
Of wind so thin I hardly feel it tells
Me that the pale epiphany has flown.
As sudden as the landing, lift expels
The moment with its tiny tone.
The search for love goes on away from me.
He gave me hope. I’m feeling like debris.
~ Phillip Whidden