Fireflies and Rain

The glow of the butterflies and fireflies
Christmas lights
two seasons out of time
warm the morning
like no coffee can
The backlight
to the sound
of fingers on keyboard
Window open
to let in the birdsong
of the not quite dawn
and let out
the still, quiet thoughts
that fill my brain
to overflowing
they roll around,
my thoughts,
in the rain on the street
and the smell it leaves in its wet wake
the heavy green moss
beneath my trees
among
the clouds
and the stars
and the smell
of loam and hyacinth
and creep back in
to wipe their feet
on my page

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