Hope

In the night, a firefly blinks

once

a single speck of light, a mote, a flake

flung into a slow, black, sloe-black

river of loneliness

rippling through

the gnarled fingers of the darkling forest

seeking a silent echo

none

In the night, a firefly blinks

again

a single speck of light, a mote, a flake

flung onto the slow, black, sloe-black

river of loneliness flowing through

the gnarled knuckles of the darkling forest

an echo comes back

In the night, a second firefly blinks

tentatively

a second speck of light, a mote, a flake

sending its silent echo

tiptoeing through the slow, black, sloe-black

river of loneliness

defying the skeleton snags of the darkling forest

no longer alone

In the night, a thousand fireflies

shake off their slow, black, sloe-black

loneliness

to draw down the starry heavens

to sprinkle fairy dust through the darkling forest

decking a path through the woods

with bright silver bells that ring

sing in celebration

of the dawn

hovering beyond the brown brink east

with warm breast and ah! bright wings.

by Jim Taylor, September 2020

with homage to Dylan Thomas, Matthew Arnold, and Gerard Manley Hopkins