Summer

Fireflies at night. Are busy. They light up with attitude. And land on my shoulder unexpectedly. In the summer. Cars going by sound crisp as they sweep through town. My head is unmuffled. And my hands are free of those gloves. Winter hassles. Like clearing the driveway. My voice is raspy from the cold air and sicknesses. Winter boots would get muddy over and over. In the summer. Fireflies light up to make us feel excited. As one lands on my glass of iced tea. Reminding me to fill the glass again. I know that this lake will freeze again. And soon, we’ll forget about the flowers. Nothing exists in the winter. Except hot tea and hot coffee. One of the last fireflies of the season. He dropped by and told me that it was almost September. Then, he flew so high up, I lost sight of him. One of summer’s last magic tricks. The lake froze. My hands almost did, but I got mittens on in time. I have blankets and coats in my car. My car starts up harshly and loudly in the winter. Fireflies at night. Every summer. They say things and dazzle us. And they will next year too.