Fireflies

My favorite time of day is dusk, when the fireflies rise up from the cacophony of my cottage garden, as I sit on the porch and listen to night creatures begin their songs. So I looked up poetry about them, and of course my favorite was by Mary Oliver.

Fireflies

At Blackwater

fireflies

are not even a dime a dozen–

they are free,

and each floats and turns

among the branches of the oaks

and the swamp azaleas

looking for another

as, who doesn’t?

Oh, blessings

on the intimacy

inside fruition,

be it foxes

or the fireflies

or the dampness inside the petals

of a thousand flowers.

Though Eden is lost

its loveliness

remains in the heart

and the imagination;

he would take her

in a boat

over the dark water;

she would take him

to an island she knows

where the blue flag grows wild

and the grass is deep,

where the birds

perch together,

feather to feather,

on the bough.

And the fireflies,

blinking their little lights,

hurry toward one another.

And the world continues,

God willing.

—Mary Oliver

“Thus will each gift to Him be multiplied a thousandfold and tens of thousands more. And when it is returned to you, it will surpass in might the little gift you gave as much as does the radiance of the sun outshine the tiny gleam a firefly makes an uncertain moment and goes out. The steady brilliance of this light remains and leads you out of darkness, 

nor will you be able to forget the way again.”

—A Course in Miracles W-97.6:1-3

“Nature voices natural, spiritual law and divine Love, but human belief misinterprets nature. Arctic regions, sunny tropics, giant hills, winged winds, mighty billows, verdant vales, festive flowers, and glorious heavens, — all point to Mind, the spiritual intelligence they reflect. The floral apostles are hieroglyphs of Deity. Suns and planets teach grand lessons. 

The stars make night beautiful, and the leaflet turns naturally towards the light.” 

—Mary Baker Eddy - Science & Health Page 240:1-9