Fires So High

Fires So High

Fireflies in the maple trees

and the bamboo and the myrtle

     blink. Seen even in our dark

living room where they float round

          the ceiling as sparks, here,

     there against the cowling,

circling the hearth, flying out

     to the roof, then up higher

          into the hickory like embers

     from flints, like the LEDs

above our heads. They crackle

          into dusk like plane

     indicators or lit swamp gas,

fires so high.

[sonnet]