Flight of the Firefly
I walked a wooded path at night;
Down in the vale: a hint of light.
It shone as through an open door:
A faint, soft glow, and little more,
And sounds of bells, to my delight.
I crept up close so I could see
From whence it came: an oaken tree.
A hole completely through and through
As I drew near, the brightness grew
And what I saw astonished me.
For traveling the tree around,
From just one side, the hole was found.
The opposite seemed solid wood:
A thing not to be understood,
A moment mesmerized, spellbound.
I quickly got down on my knee
And squirmed my way right through the tree
Into a glen of wonder filled,
My heart apace and senses thrilled:
Enormous fireflies greeted me!
’Twas shortly that I realized
That I, not they, had been resized.
Something about that hole, that night
Had magically transformed my height.
Surroundings, I scarce recognized.
The light, once dim, was now a glare,
A pulsing laser light affair
The bells were not heard anymore
For wings in flight produced a roar;
The sights and sounds were hard to square.
Then suddenly, in front of me,
A firefly dropped down on a knee.
Although communication lacked,
He motioned that I climb his back,
And who was I to disagree?
Away we went, just like a flash;
I thought that we would surely crash.
The lights loomed large, bright like the sun.
Careening, not to be outdone,
A mad, frenetic, frenzied dash.
But shortly, I began to breathe,
Discerned a pattern in their weave.
Coordinated, graceful turns
With wings for brakes, bright engine burns.
My terror: granted some reprieve.
We pulled off from the landing site
And headed deep into the night.
We circled trees, did figure eights,
Pulled g’s in banked accelerates,
Then weightless, touched down, oh so light.
From lofty perch, below serene,
And then a terrifying scream.
A sonic blast that hit the chest
And toppled us in heart arrest;
Unfolding was a horror scene.
A giant bat in strafing run
Emitting sounds that stalled and stunned.
And so we tumbled down, head-first,
Preparing for the very worst,
No chance to call on anyone.
My steed, scarce conscious as he fell,
Somehow found strength deep in a well,
And just before we hit the ground,
Regained control and swung around,
Flew under me; I grabbed his shell.
I watched, a mix of horror, awe:
The bat closed, wide and gaping maw.
My ride pulled hard, a master stroke,
Aimed for the hole within the oak.
Lights out, the last thing that I saw.
How long I slept, I can't attest:
A couple hours, I might have guessed
The world seemed normal, back again.
But for one thing, dreams entertained:
The firefly there upon my chest.
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for the Flight Poetry Contest
sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
written on 06/04/2022
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
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