I watch the fireflies cling to life as the end of summer approaches, the days turning cooler, nights chilly.
Some say the end is near for humanity. If it’s true, I wonder what that will be like.
I keep watch at night for the brilliance of the fireflies twinkling in the treetops. I see only one. Is it the last? It falls to the ground; its light barely sparks on the way down. Lying in the grass, the firefly’s light dimly flickers, its flame extinguishing with its life.
I fear that will be us, fighting to survive as our light dies.
A beautiful–and appropriate–analogy.
Thank you so much, Clay. You’re very kind.
A well-wrought metaphor, Pattyann. Hopefully not too prophetic though, but that’s the enduring power of great science fiction writing.
Thanks so much, Prospero. Hoping myself it’s not prophetic, but one can’t help but to wonder! 🙂
That last singing cricket holds the same emotions for me. (I wrote a poem about it.) I love this!