this is the rainiest june in my memory
but i’m not one to complain
after the first storm had abated
i looked out the window
and saw a firefly flitting by
such a very small creature
with a life of few days
but what did that matter?
it shone brilliantly despite its brevity
who am i to fret about trifles in eternity’s face?
every second a candle is lit
then another is snuffed out
lilies bloomed today are tomorrow consigned to fire
if a firefly can blaze in the face of the storm
should not i, a child of light, shine in the darkness?