Blessing

Blessing by

May time grant you the lasting memory of the summer night

                 on Jonas Ridge when we were walking the dogs, late—

the white rail fence, our guide.

When we turned back toward the cabin, darkness pressed

                 against our faces

and a host of fireflies flashed in the mist

                 settling on the fields,

blinking green from another realm,

                 lighting the divide between road and weeds.

The dogs looked up.

                 Frenzied katydids took a rest.

Following the tiny globes, we felt our way

                 to the gravel hill that sloped

toward the yellow glow

                 of lamplight from the cabin windows.