Below The Treeline

In the evening heat, we sit on the porch
watching fireflies light up here and there and
here again down in the yard. We pass the bottle 
back and forth as we settle
into the lethargy that overtakes us now at dusk.

Years ago, when our children were small, they
would run around chasing fireflies, putting
them in bottles. Strange to think about
those times, before masks, before social 
distancing. When
family gatherings were not on Zoom and 
we were together in the yard, sitting 
at tables laughing and playing 
cards. Passing the babies
from lap to lap.

As real dark sets in,the fireflies 
disappear high
into the trees. I go inside and 
set the porridge for
breakfast.

2 thoughts on “Below The Treeline”

    1. With this prompt I had to use certain words. bottle and porridge were two of them. And hey, here I am at 4:13 eating my porridge! Although in this poem she was prepping for morning.

      Like

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