Have you ever walked close to a clutter of trees and saw the twinkling light of fireflies? Ever wonder what's really going on behind those trees?
The cry of an eagle's echo purple mountains rise from below dew kissed carpet of grass on display The Iris has come out tonight she's also eager to play
The Pixies flitter about in mid air singing their songs without a care tonight is a special night a mysterious, gala affair!
A quiet embraces the still, warm night The Faeries have come, to all's delight! to start the celebration of the arrival of Spring! hush, now! as they come out to dance and sing
Suddenly, the mellow sky is awakened by a sparkle of light as The Mother Faery takes flight!
Dazzling beauty in her shimmering dress with a necklace of fireflies upon her breast She swirls down a trail of stardust and sets the forest creatures to sing and dance in celebration of the coming back of Spring!
Thanks for a wonderful poem posted here,Denise. In return, I am giving just 375 word in prose- about fireflies. Of course, this prose is part of my copyright, meant for my future book. I hope readers would enjoy it:
TEN, TWENTY, FIFTY
Hariharan Balakrishnan
(375 words)
Once. Just once. I saw the locusts when I was a lad of ten. Just back from school, I ran to the playground one evening, and wondered why there was nobody around. Then I saw at a distance a dark brown cloud, much below the horizon, closer to earth than the normal clouds. I stared at it, half in wonder-half in fear. It was moving towards me, and moving fast. Before I could gather my wits, it was upon me. Hard, soft, sharp, squelchy somethings were knocking against my face, my arms, my head. The locusts. In no time, they were around me. I was part of the monstrous cloud. I screamed and ran inside the house. I closed the door. All windows were already closed. All windows, in all homes, as I noticed later.
Soon I was twenty. After a tiring day as a travelling salesman, I flung my bag and briefcase into the train on my way to Kesinga. It was evening, and a rainy day. I did not know when sleep overcame me. I must have dozed off in the seat, for how long I don’t know. The man sitting opposite must have opened the shutter. Drops of water spattered on my face. I opened my eyes in languor. And, in a trice sat erect. Outside the window, I saw a vastness in the dark, sprinkled with stars -a myriad. Stars twinkling at eye level- as far as the eye could see, and as high. The fireflies. In the midst of darkness, semi-silhouetted by the huge trees in the jungle. The train was moving fast. The veritable feast for the eyes must have lasted a full five minutes. I thanked the man sitting across. But for him, lifting the shutter, I would have never seen this marvel. The splendour of the fireflies in the night.
Today, at fifty, I sometimes wonder why I have never seen the locusts since.
I am grateful to God for that. But even now, once in a way I see the fireflies. In ones and twos, if not in the profusion of that night. In my own house. All the more beautiful, the more precious in a dark room. Thank God for the fireflies.
(c)2002 Hariharan Balakrishnan
A half-zythian bard gets caught up in an affair with the Duchess of Highlake. The Duke wants him dead and our hero is forced to flee through a forest that no one has ever returned from.
A world of steam and springs. A breakneck race for power. Will one woman's defiance topple a kingdom? If you like feisty heroines, fearsome dragons, and fast-paced action, then you'll savor this steam-powered thrill-ride.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Regis
TEN, TWENTY, FIFTY
Hariharan Balakrishnan
(375 words)
Once. Just once. I saw the locusts when I was a lad of ten. Just back from school, I ran to the playground one evening, and wondered why there was nobody around. Then I saw at a distance a dark brown cloud, much below the horizon, closer to earth than the normal clouds. I stared at it, half in wonder-half in fear. It was moving towards me, and moving fast. Before I could gather my wits, it was upon me. Hard, soft, sharp, squelchy somethings were knocking against my face, my arms, my head. The locusts. In no time, they were around me. I was part of the monstrous cloud. I screamed and ran inside the house. I closed the door. All windows were already closed. All windows, in all homes, as I noticed later.
Soon I was twenty. After a tiring day as a travelling salesman, I flung my bag and briefcase into the train on my way to Kesinga. It was evening, and a rainy day. I did not know when sleep overcame me. I must have dozed off in the seat, for how long I don’t know. The man sitting opposite must have opened the shutter. Drops of water spattered on my face. I opened my eyes in languor. And, in a trice sat erect. Outside the window, I saw a vastness in the dark, sprinkled with stars -a myriad. Stars twinkling at eye level- as far as the eye could see, and as high. The fireflies. In the midst of darkness, semi-silhouetted by the huge trees in the jungle. The train was moving fast. The veritable feast for the eyes must have lasted a full five minutes. I thanked the man sitting across. But for him, lifting the shutter, I would have never seen this marvel. The splendour of the fireflies in the night.
Today, at fifty, I sometimes wonder why I have never seen the locusts since.
I am grateful to God for that. But even now, once in a way I see the fireflies. In ones and twos, if not in the profusion of that night. In my own house. All the more beautiful, the more precious in a dark room. Thank God for the fireflies.
(c)2002 Hariharan Balakrishnan
Birgit and Roger
felix