Fireflies
Doug Van Hooser
there are fireflies now
in my Mother’s mind
the memories glow prior to the war
three years married to a ring
thirty-five until the Master Sergeant
fell on a cancer grenade
even the next thirty-five
alone another marriage life-time
today I could not teach her
how to manage a thermostat
having conceived five children
she can’t conceive three buttons
confused by heat and cool
her memories a blanket she warms herself in
what’s new so cool it must be written down
the firefly I want is the woman
looking beyond me from the frame
sitting on the corner of my desk
the mother of my adolescent book
not the torn pages I read now
last night I wandered in a field
fireflies blinking and winking
flickering embers painting a portrait
remembering when I would catch the glow
and try to hold it in a jar
puncture the lid to keep it alive
provide a leaf a twig
not knowing what to offer
to keep the light glowing