Fireflies (Monday Poem)

by Mary Oliver

 

 

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.

 

from Devotions: the Selected Poems of Mary Oliver

Penguin, 2017