The Last Fireflies of Spring

Saving Joy and the Paying Attention to the Soul and the Earth

Photo by Jerry Zhang on Unsplash

Writing this poem was dipping deep into my soul to pull out a memory—a memory triggered by reading an article titled, “The Last Generation to See Fireflies.” As I read the article, the memories were stirred up in me at seven years old and now again, at seventy years of age. The space and distance between these two ages is a life of catching fireflies and a life tasting mystery.

I introduced the “spiritual practice” of catching fireflies to my own boys thirty years ago when I took them to the mountains in Western North Carolina where we’d catch fireflies and listen to the beavers flapping their tails on the creek right below the cabin that became their haven for boyhood life in the mountains. We caught trout in the creek and grill it on the charcoal fire surrounded by fireflies dotting the heavens with a radiant glory. It was a kingdom of heaven—I tell you. It was about as close to the edge of the kingdom as I’ve ever been.

As I sat with my own memories; the article explaining how this particular insect is in danger of extinction, the poem poured out of me like refreshing water—a water stored deep within my soul.

Yet, the sting and sobring reality of the article and in my poem is yet, another threat to our lives: How shall we find joy when the last light of the firefly goes out?

This is a poem that feels distilled as an expression of my soul. I am so glad to share it with you and I hope as you read this poem, you’ll be triggered with some childhood memory that you both want and need to savor today as your own refreshing water.

We have fireflies here outside our mountain home in WEstern North Carolina. But there are not as many as I remember as a boy. By the time my grandkids all arrive next week, the firefly season might be over. But maybe, the world will hold it’s breath and a few fireflies will show up and dance in the night skies.

I need to go get some Mason Jars today.

Drink deeply as you read!

Steve