Day Twenty Five: Sport Poem

“Hunting”

On a sultry summer evening, just before sunset,

while cicadas sing in the dogwood trees,

two freckled children frolic in the grass,

following fireflies that hover in front of their faces

like playful sprites.

Later, they will call forth comfort from

the crystalline phials of captured lightning bugs

when they wake in the wee small hours, feeling haunted

by phantasms and half-dreams turned to horrors.

The tiny glowing dancers next to the bed will remind them of

laughter,

luscious red strawberries gobbled raw from the garden, and

twilight games together—

and then they will close their eyes and whisper,“Welcome,

Mr. Sandman. Did you bring me Fancies?

Will you hold my hand and show me the road to Slumber Land?”