Atahsaia Catching Fireflies

He fades on his moonlit walk, a shrinking violet

through fields of fire flies this last night of summer

before they leave; before they die.

His footsteps soft through cutter grass

sharp against ghost legs, jar in hand.,

disappearing-reappearing

Black curls cropped above sage bush, he reaches

to catch the flash moving in and out of his life,

capturing it in his lightning bug jail

A whoop and a holler as he heads through the meadow,

shoulder deep in Luna’s light; he blinks away the moment

lest she memorize his soul

Howling a mournful song, he takes her lightness

to the Rio in water deep and dark, for a swift ride

to nowhere, for he hides deep in his meadow

as he fades on his moonlit walk, a shrinking violet

through fields of lightning bugs and cutter grass

on this last night of summer.