“The Lights” Came the Summer We Were 13

They couldn’t be fireflies

-those flitting lovelights that kiss the dark

and perfume the air like sun-soaked grass-

but their yellow-globed flit and flicker

suggested winged critters.

soundless,

but buzzing in our blood like bee-hum,

they flickered in paired flashes -

two eyes blinking in coded dance

before our guileless gaze

bedazzling us with glitter and glimmer

of possibility

  of first kisses, candlelit wishes,

  of twilight dances and blushing romances 

  of railway passes and seafaring classes

we called them “The Lights,” unaware

they were the shimmer of 

stardust and wanderlust flickering our veins